Stitched Up
by Underworld Angel
Summary: Ok, let's see what has happen to me: my so called 'friends' murdered me, I been resurrected back inside my body & I have to fight demons and stop some psycho b**** from causing the apocalypse. Yeah, that's normal. Re-Wrote Ch.3
1. Prologue

**This is my first time at writing a Total Drama fanfic, so please be kind.**

**Genre: Horror, Drama, Romance & Fantasy**

**Rated T for violents and lots of cussing. You were warned.**

o0o

_**Stitched Up**_

_**Prologue**_

**(Gwen's P.O.V.)**

New York City is a world completely different from the world of Canadians despite the fact that they are so close. New York is more dangerous, more cold and bitter to life. All that fame and glamour, the hustle and bustle of the big city, the big apple with Time Square and the State of Liberty, it's all a mask, a facade, something to lure the innocent to its grip and destory them completely. The streets and roads were always dangerous, even in the daylight, but at night it becomes a hunting grounds.

Hunting grounds that have been marred with the blood of sinners and innocents. For fun, pleasure and psychotic rage, fuel to a explosive, overheated flame ready to burst with wickedness. It was murders like these that send shivers down grown men's spine, made small children cry in fear, and made newspapers wealthy to expose the victims. God, I hated this rotten place, it's the mortal verson of Hell only not as terrible as the real inferno.

It started to snow; pure, untainted, beautiful white snow that fell from the heavens as a pathetic way to try to stop the bad guys with frigid winds and ice. It was also a beautiful way to express the reality of life: cold and unforgiving but it is beautiful at the same time. I wanted to enjoy this, the first snow fall of the year, but I couldn't. I had a job to do.

And that job included lots and lots of bloodshed.

Pulling my hood over my head, I jogged over towards a nearby alley. Even when it is the coldest day of the years, jackass seem uneffect by this and still do shit. Because of them, my nights, the only time of time I get to relax, are completely fucked up. Not only was my night ruin, but I was late for my stitching appointment. Ugh! Chichi is gonna kill me.

I finally found the jackasses that decided tonight was a good night to be screw someone over. They were some dunk motherfuckers that were kicked out of a neighboring nightclub and decide that the first person they saw would become their puching bag. Shockly, the first person they saw was an 11-years-old little who dropped her ball from her apartment window. She climbed down the fire escape and was captured by the motherfuckers.

The poor thing was cowarding in the corner, praying to God that someone would save her while the man laughed at her. Pulling out a dagger from my back pocket, I crept up behind the tallest one, the one that was raising his hand to hit the girl. Before he could get a swipe at her, I plunged the dagger into the center of his back, digging into the muscles then pulling back the blade. Screaming of pain erupted from the man as when I dug the dagger into his back then yanked it out. He fell down.

The other two turned and charged at me. Unfortunately for them, they were drunk as fuck and barely kept their balance. I stab the jackass on my left in the arm and kicked the other one to the head. Both fell down. I sighed and looked at the bodies, barely a challenge. I yanked out the dagger from the guy's shoulder blade and put it back into my pocket. I kicked the guy in the stomach and all I got was a groan.

God, they were such a waste of flesh!

"E..e..excuse me."

I looked at the wall to see the little girl. Damn it! I forget she was here. No doubt she'll be scarred for life. I bend over and picked her up, whispering in her ear that everything was gonna be alright and I wasn't gonna hurt her. She pointed towards the garbage cans and I saw a medium size red ball with the name 'Emily' written in marker. I handed to her and told her to hold on.

I jumped up, from the ground to the second floor fire escape. My boots made a huge CLACK! sound when it hit the metal that I had to held my breathe, hoping that no one in the building or near the scene heard it. Little Emily clutched my shoulder, whispering prayers to God hoping she'll live, I patted her on the back. I ended up climbing staircases since another jump up would surely give the kid a heart attack. Finally, I reached the fifth floor were her bedroom was, the window wide open.

"Here you are, Emily," I whispered, placing her into her pink-painted room, "Home sweet home, eh."

"Thank you."

"No problem, now go to sleep and don't tell anyone about me or what you saw, ok."

She looked really confused, "Why?"

I smiled and pulled out a cross necklace and placed it in front of her eyes, "Because this is my mission from God, and God says I must not be known. Ok? Now, please go to bed."

She nodded and walked towards her bed. I closed the window as she turned off the light and fell asleep. I waited a few minutes to make sure she really went to sleep and that no one was around. New York was the city that never sleep so it was really rare that streets were empty like this. Hopping up to the rail of the fire escape, I looked for a good spot to land and threw myself off the ledge.

Jumping down to the ground, I stared at the unconscious bodies. They were still drunk and passed out, the two stabbed was bleeding badly and the other one was snoring loudly. I was tempted to just leave them there, but knew my conscious would haunt me if I did. So I dragged them together and, using some of the barb wire I had wrapped around my neck, I tied their arms and legs together.

I fished out their wallets and my iPhone and did a little background check on the three jackass. Idiot one, the big one I stabbed first was Johnny Barker, 31, conviced pedophile and two time offender, never married. Second stabbed jackass, Monny Barker, 39, divorced, father of one, wanted for the rape of a college grad. Third, Alex Price, 29, amateur arsonist and part of a gang call Seven Snakes.

Just the regular garbage of New York. I jogged to the nearest pay phone, dialed 911 and reported the three were laying here, tied up and ready for a prison cell. I hung up when the 911 operator asked me who I was. No money and no method of quick transportation, I ran away from the scene. Luckly, I wasn't that far from the old, broken down church located a bit outside of big city New York.

I was never a fast runner, not exactly track star of my school like that, but somehow, after death, I was more quicker, light on my feet and two miles seemed like two steps to me, despite the freezing air and the falling snow. I reached the church before I even broke a sweat. The St. John's Catholic Church wasn't like those big fancy churches that are found in the middle of the NYC, it was fairly simple, white paint, tall bell tower acted as the entrance and long aisles of pews waiting for morning prayers. It also doubled as a school in the morning, but that was a different story.

I pushed open the heavy oak door, letting in both myself and a few puffs of cold air. Once inside, I closed the door, preventing the snow from coming in and freeze the interior.

"Father Tasker, I've return," I said, my voice echoed through the massive brick structure.

Dropping my blood covered dagger on the floor, letting its clanging noises bounce off the walls, I started marching foward to the were the altar was located while unraveling the barb wire around my neck, careful not to pull any of my stitches. It was a pain in the ass to re-fasten my limbs together. By the time the fuckin' wire was off my neck, I found Father Tasker lighting a few candles at the alter and say a quick prayer under his breath.

Father Tasker was an old man, in his late 50's, early 60's, I think. He looked like those funny grandfathers that rambled on and on about how teens were too wild, corn was too expensive and how earning $20 made you a wealthy man back in his time. But looks were deceiving, and despite his snow white hair and wrinkly skin, he was a strong spiritually and very wise, being the head priest for a decaying church, you often met with a lot of trespassers and vandals coming around, not to mention local gangs looking for new turf, he had a lot of patience with the damage they do. But he doesn't punish them, I do. Harshly. Turning around, he stepped down from the alter and gave me a smile, a real smile.

"Welcome back, Gwendolyn," he answered in his aging voice, "I assume you successful completed another assignment."

"Yes, Father," I replied automatically, getting down on right knee, lowering my head, "Another demon has been destroyed and I managed to save a innocent before she was corrupted."

"Well done, my child," he replied, patting my head like my father did to me when I was a little girl, "Come, Chichi is waiting for you in the basement for you monthly restitching."

I groaned loudly, I _loath _my restitching appointments with my watcher, but I really had no choice; its either had my stitches redone or have them unravel during battles and lose a limb. It was really embarrassing to have one of my legs or arms fall off.

Father Tasker grabbed my hand and started pulling my towards the hallway; he didn't really have to pull my arm, it's not like I would run away or go against my watcher or Father. I guess it was natural for him, after all, not only is he a priest, but as well as a school teacher to over 50 very stubborn school children.

We exit the church and made way to the forest behind it. My boots along with Father's oxfords crunched the dead leaves and thick snow that laid out in fron of us, dived into the mess of bare, horror-movie ready trees and kept walking straight through for the next ten or so minutes we made it to the church's old abandon bell tower that acted as my hideout and my home. I called it the 'Twisted Tower' cause it looked about ready to fall over, but you'd be surprise how strong and sturdy it is.

"I'll take it you won't run away," asked Father with a sorta of amusement in his voice.

I sighed, "I won't."

"Good girl," he replied and pushed me towards the entrance and became walking back towards the church.

No where to run, wouldn't go against Father Tasker, I pushed open the door and faced the music. There were only two floors in the tower; the ground floor were it was bare, save for a small closet and an dissection table that was in the center of the room, and the top floor which is were my room was and the rope to pull the pull from. I looked around the room, trying to spot Chichi, my watcher.

Here's a little info about Chichi: she's an immortal angel who swore her eternal loyalty and soul to God, Chichi is known as an Ancient, one of the oldest and most powerful angel in her division, a watcher. A watcher is a guardian and teacher for amateur pure soul AKA me, for some reason.

However, it's really hard to take her serious when her mortal form is that of a ten-years-old child. She less than half my size, barely reaching my thigh, with long blonde hair, blue eyes and a lolita style blue dress with a cross necklace. To be blunt, she looked just like the Disney-verson of Alice in Wonderland.

"Gwendolyn Morana Blackwood! Where in the name of the lord were you?"

But she sure doesn't act sweet and naive.

She's very bossy and acts like an overprotective mother, always checking my stitches for loose threads and making sure I don't have any permant scars from my battle. Chichi is also my trainer and her trainning is so brutal it would make Chris's challenge seem like taking a cakewalk. God, I hated her trainning. But I did love her dearly, like a younger sister/best friend. I felt like I've know her for centuries and she said I did. I still don't understand what she meant.

I saw her fly in. Oh, yeah, almost forgot, she has tiny pair of white wings on her back, too. She looked really delicate, but was pretty powerful for her size and had a wit that could cut your mind like my dagger on demon flesh. Her hands were placed on her hips and she had this glaring stare at me. She was pissed off.

"Sorry," I replied, looking down, "I had to save this little girl from being killed."

Chichi's glare dropped and she smiled sweetly at me, she was a sucker for kids, after all: they were inoccent little things.

"Good," she replied, folding her hands on her stomach and dropping herself to the floor, "Very good, Gwendolyn. Now, please undress so we can being restitching your limbs."

Watching Chichi walk into the closet, I began undresses until I was only in my black bra and matching panties. Looking into a mirror, I looked over my stitches on my arms, legs, neck and stomach. I known you are thinking; '_Stitches? Is she hurt? Was she in a accident?_' Hurt was not even remotely close to define how I was. But I could think of a perfect one: dead.

Yes, I, Gwendolyn Morana Blackwood, am dead. Or at left half dead. I'm kinda like a mixture of Frankenstein and a zombie. It was a prank gone wrong by my 'friends' that left me like this, with ugly, thick stitches that keeps my limbs connected, my organs don't work anymore so I don't need to drink or eat or go to the bathroom. When I go to battle, I get stabbed, cut and shot multiple times and I don't feel a thing and I can't feel heat and I'm ice cold to the touch. But make no mistake, I'm not some freakin' zombie, I don't eat flesh and definately don't crave brain. I can still eat normal food, but I don't gain weight from it.

So I'm kinda like a shell with a soul. But again I'm not a zombie nor am I female Frankenstein, I'm still me, just dead. Kinda. I never really got this I'm-dead-but-I'm-not thing my watcher been telling me. She's says I'm a holy being. Tsk, yeah right. Take one good look at me and you'll think I'm a monster. Skin pure white, hair changes colors whenever I want and grows way to fast for my liking, too, icy cold blue lips, stitches all over me, and my eyes...they were the only things that were left alone that made me look slightly human.

On cue, my tiny,child-like watcher came back out with her pink purse that contain the needles and threads she needed to fix me up. Next to being my guardian and teacher, Chichi was also my doctor and a extremely strict doctor at that.

"You've certainly done a number on yourself Gwen," scoled Chichi, pulling on the loose threads on my left wrist.

Unraveling the black stitches, my left hand fell to the floor with a muffled thud on the dusty wooden floor. Chichi picked thr fallen limb and walked over to the dissection table that stood in the center of the room. I followed my tiny, winged watcher and jumped on the metal table, laying myself down on it. Putting the severed hand in front of my empty wrist, Chichi pulled out a pink seam ripper from her purse and started ripping several stitches on my body, making sure not to cut any of my skin, not that it matter. I would never feel it.

Signing, I turned my head to the stone wall as Chichi began restitching my limbs with a sharp needle and thick black thread. Dealing with crooks, robbers, murders, and demons were seriously taking its toll on me. It had only been eight months since my death and my resurrection back inside my cut-up body into a stitched duty-bound reaper of sinners and demons. I know, sounds like something out of some noir comic book geeks read with big breasted women and 'cool' looking men, but this is serious shit. Because of what I did I'm forced to stay inside this dead, cut-up, stitched-like-a-rag-doll body for the rest of eternity.

"There!" chirped Chichi, "All done! Now, try to stand up, Gwen."

I started lifting my arms, making sure I still had full funtion of it. I really hated my body, it like being one of those pop on/off limbs dolls, take off one limb and put on a 'nother one, a better one. But unlike dolls, I stayed with my old limbs. My stupid, broken, dead limbs.

I swung my legs over the table and jumped off. I swayed a bit, but I managed to stay on my feet. Doing a few high kicks, punched the air a bit, cartwheel, backflips and all that shit, none of limbs fell off and felt pretty secure with the newly made stitches. Chichi nodded at her handiwork and started putting away her sewing supplies.

"Thanks," I mumured, doing one last kick.

"My pleasure, Gwendolyn," Chichi smiled.

Putting my dirty clothes in the hamper and handing me my now clean weapons, I walked pass my watcher and towards the back door. Opening it revealed a long spiral stone staircase connected to the wall. Whispering goodnight, I walked up the stairs and didn't stop 'till I reach the top where my room was.

Opening the beautifully carved wooden door, I pushed it open and enter into this huge room that was my bedroom ever since coming to New York. Shades of brown colored the room nicely, the ceiling had a ribbed vault, and wooden floor is perfectly polished. Not only was this my bedroom, but it also doubled as my studio, hence all my paintings, the finished ones anyway, was hung on the wall. I walked over to my antique dresser and pulled out my pjs, which was just a black camisole and long black pants.

I jumped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. I forgot to tell you that my ceiling had been stained with demon blood I slaughter this morning when it tried to kill me in my sleep. Chichi had clean the floor and walls, but forgot the ceiling. I spotted the skin and bits of muscles and organs clinging to the surface while the blood was beginning to dry.

PLOP!

Ugh! I stand corrected. The blood wasn't dry and a drop just hit my forehead. Wiping it away, I pulled the covers over my head and closed my eyes. I began counting sheep and thinking of things that made me happy, like Chris head on a pike. I started to recap what happen to me.

My friends killed me.

I was resurrected back inside my body.

I have to fight demons.

I have to protect the people of New York

No one must ever know I exist.

"Just another normal day for me."

...

**Stitched Up - Notes**

**Gwen has a total of ten stitches: two on both of her arms, two on each leg, on her neck, and stomach. The rest of her unstitched body and skin can heal itself. I'll explain the reason for it later in the story**

**This is the prologue to this story. It's not much, just an explaination and visual on how Gwen goes about her days since her death/resurrection. It's a short chapter (at least to me) and I think I rushed it a bit, but I promise the next one will be longer.**

**As the story goes go, you'll meet the new friends Gwen made, the enemies she has and find out how exactly how she died, but that won't be for another few chapters. Hopefully, you guy like it.**

**NEXT: Chapter 1 - Needle & Thread**

**Read and Review!**


	2. Needle & Thread

**Quick note: this chapter happens about a two year after the prologue. Gwen is around eighteen now.**

**Also, I just found out that I left the Anti-Anonymous filter thing on that prevented anonymous reviews. I turned it off so if anonymous reviews what to, you know, review my fic, you can and I appreciate it. **

**That is all.**

**o0o**

**Chapter 1:**

**Needle & Thread**

(Gwen's P.O.V.)

Thanks to Chris's stupid early morning wakeup calls, my entire sleep patterns were out of wack! Even though I'm dead, I still like going to sleep because I can still dreams and dreams are so much better than reality. But ever since going on Total Drama, I haven't been getting that much sleep since my brain has already memorized that son of a bitch host's wakeup system and now I only get like two-four hours of sleep before I have my internal alarm, that sounds just like Chris's bullhorn, wake me up.

I had just taken down two robbers, a kidnapper, five lesser demons and a drunk jackass with a shotgun a few hours ago, and since the sun was coming up, I had to quickly get the heck out of the city before anyone could see me. After getting back into my bed, I was hoping for some good night sleep, but, sadly, that wasn't what it was gonna be. Only two hours since I closed my eyes, I woke up again and my body refuse to shut down. Ugh! I really hated Chris! I was having such a great dream, too! I wasn't a stitched up corpse in my dreams and I never dreamed about Total Drama or the other contestants, maybe they don't exist in my dreams which is fine by me. The last thing I need is to remember those assholes.

Looking down, I hadn't changed out of my outfit: a tight purple corset top, tiny black shorts, a black ruffle petticoat that reached mid-thigh with a large bow, Demonia lace-up boots with heavy chains and an awesome thick lether jacket my friend, Neil, gave to me. Unlike all my other clothing, this was probably the one of the few that wasn't torn or ripped up. I glanced at the grandfather clock that sat across the room, it was 7:00 am in the morning, perfectly in sync with the bastard host wake up time.

My room was pitch black despite the fact that the sun was probably already up in the sky, blaring down its heat way. Seeing that the windows were shut and the curtains where drawn, letting no speck of light inside, I imaged that it was the work of my watcher who probably wanted me to sleep through the afternoon and be better minded for my night patrol. I wasn't allowed to leave the tower when it was daylight since she was so worried that people would see me.

Forcing my body to wake up, I got off my bed and started stripping off my clothes from my body then tossed them on the floor. The bathroom I installed when I first lived here was pretty small, their was only a large white tub that dominated the entire room. No toliet, not that I really needed one. I'm dead, remember. I filled up the tub with water, not really caring if it was hot or cold, and tossed in liquid sopa and watching it bubble up. Pulling out a new towel, I placed it on a stool next to the tub before climbing in.

I took an hour and a half long hot bath to wash off the grim and dried up blood I had stuck on my skin and hair from last night's battle. My stitches looked a little worn and I was due for another stitching appointment later today so I had to be careful when scrubbing my body not to pull the stitches. Through the window, I could hear and view New York's morning life was coming alive again. Stores began to open, parents woke up their children for school, the smog of cars and trucks filled the air, business men start screaming into their cells to have their employees get their asses out of bed and to the office. It didn't matter to me though, I couldn't go out in the day.

And so the world goes on with their lives, completely oblivious to the danger that lurks right around the corner or maybe right next to them. After all, demons were sneaky, clever little shapeshifting bastards. Humans couldn't see them, but I could. I could see their twisted, ugly, deformed bodies just walking around the city like their were normal citizens while everyone goes on not see what is inhabiting its life.

To be frank, 15% of New York's population are demons. I wouldn't freak out about that, they don't just go out and attack other, they're mainly space holders, taking roles in society until Armageddon when they can shed their disguises and retake their devish forms. Then they become canabalistic, blood-lusting, craving raw anger and destruction. Plus they were a really pain in the ass to get rid of.

And that's way I had to destory them. Even if they aren't doing anything, they still going against the laws of their kind by interacting with mortals and taking part in their world. Sure, it was unfair that Chichi locked me away in this tower instead of letting me slaughter the devil's children, but like I said, they were clever little shapeshifting bastards. What looks like a disgusting, vile, flesh-consuming demon in my vision might be your grandfather, best friend's mother or local stray dog in yours. Not exactly a wise this to do in broad daylight.

After washing off my body, and draining the tub, I wrapped the towel around my body and started towel-drying my hair. I re-dyed my hair and fully made it a fiery red and grew it down to knee. I pulled out a sewing needle with a long black thread already on it and stitched on another seam onto my wrist and my ankle just to tighten it. Once finished, I tossed off the towel and changed into a gray t-shirt with the words 'UNDEAD and lovin' it' in black letters over long sleeve purple shirt, jeans, studded belt, black ribbon necklace, gloves, and a pair of black platform shoes. Grabbing my bag and even putting on a pair of glasses on that I really didn't need, I started down the stares, hoping Chichi was there.

But really, where can a winged, child-like watcher go in a world full of human? I found her sitting at her little desk reading the bible for the nth time. She was dressed head to toe in white; white dress, white ribbons in her hair, white stockings, even white mary janes. I close the door rough, causing a loud BANG! that surprised her. She turned around and stared at me.

"Why are you up," asked Chichi, quite harshly.

"Can't sleep," I replied bluntly, "Don't need it, going out."

Chichi flew quickly in front of me, flying up so our eye levels would match and block my path, "No you won't, young lady. It's daylight, humans still roam the steets. We will not take the chance of having someone seeing you and telling the rest of the world. It's bad enough that you already told several people about your existance, but we can't have camera-happy humans coming around and taking photos."

I rolled my eyes, I almost forgot how pissed Chichi was when she found out about my new friends. See, I kinda save a girl named Circe from a hord of demons that tried to kill her and I ended up exposing myself. No, I don't mean like that, pervs! I mean she saw my stitches and my head being chopped off and still able to fight. Anyway, one thing lead to another and I became her friend and she introduce me to her friends and suddenly I had friends. Don't get me wrong, I was happy I had real friends, they knew me from Total Drama and about my current situation and they're cool about it, but something in my non-fuctioning gut told me that I was gonna be trouble.

And when Chichi found out, she was full blown pissed off. My winged watcher started yelling and lecturing me for a good eight hours before grounding me in my tower for a month while she tried to get rid of my friends. She tried to chase them away, put several barriers around the tower to keep them away, and once she threaten to erase their memories. But they were persistent which was surprising to me since I never thought they would care about me this much. She eventually gave up and let them visit me, but she would never let me forget about breaking my promise of not telling anyone.

"Come on, Chichi," I replied, "I'm sick of being in my room all day and I can't go back to sleep now. Can't I just go out for a few hours. I promise, no one will see me."

"No, absolutly not," Chichi crossed her arms and motioned with her head towards the stairs, "Now go back upstair into your room until we have to start your lessons. I don't care what you do as long as you stay up there."

I groaned and walked towards the stairs. Halfway up the first step, I turned my head to my watcher, silently pleading to let me out. She shook her head and pointed at me to march up the stairs. God, she was just as bad as my mother when she saw my bro's report card.

I entered my room and slammed the door close. Childish, I know, but it just pisses me off that Chichi still doesn't trust me after two years of doing this. Like I don't know that I can't have people see and that I've broke that rule when I made friends, like I haven't been told over 100 frickin' times! Then again, I was never one to follow rules.

I walked over to my drawers and opened the botton, revealing a treasure chest of guns, daggers, mace, spears, barb wire whips, and a hell of a lot of other flesh spitting artillery I was able to get my hands on. An assassin's dream. Pulling out my favorite dagger, a curved one with a silver and blue handle, stuffed it into my bag along with two loaded revolvers and a pistol in my pant's pocket.

Now, why was I loading myself with weapons? I hand this feeling in my gut that someone was in trouble. Chichi always told me to follow my instincts and do the right thing, but at the same time I had to follow the rules. But like I said earlier, I was never the one to follow the rules. You can't expect to do the right thing and follow the rules at the same time, sometimes rules had to be broken. Plus, we're in the city that harvest and cultivated crime: The Forty Thieves, Charles Luciano and David Berkowitz were just a few who made their infamy titles forever immortalize in the world.

And then there are todays modern psycho, freak shows, and deranged criminals that would make past criminals puke their guts out with their acts of hell. Even I, who have sliced open human's and demon's body and ripped out their organs, was completely disgusted by their acts. I would tell you, but it's M rated and I really don't feel your a bad person to be scarred for life. Then, out of the blue, I sensed a demon. An angry, violent demon.

Screw asking for permission, I gotta get out of this room!

Rays of heat beat down on me the minute I opened the window and climbed on top of the ledge. It was a perfect summer day: no clouds in the sky, I could hear birds chirping in the nearby trees, squirrels scurrying around the ground, and with the sun just looming over the city, I was tempted to take off my hooded coat. Unhooking my boots from the ledge, I jumped off and started falling a few stories towards the ground.

I landed on my platforms, I started running towards the wood. The intense feeling in my mind continue to nag me like Chichi during my lessons. I had to kill whatever was screwing around in the streets if I wanted this God forsaken pain to disappear. With the sun out, I could navigate swiftly throught the trees and I got the city in under five minutes. My clothing hid my stitches and I bore no other telltale signs that I was dead so I just looked like some pale goth kid running around in New York, then I slipped between two nearby buildings.

Alleys are the most dangerous places to be inside New York, home to gangbangers and hard core junkies, no one in their right mind would set foot into this fucked up place unless they were armed to the teeth or had balls of steel. Or were Izzy-crazy, either way, it was pretty suicidal to enter here if you didn't belong here. I ran towards the back, never stopping, pushing my hands into my hand and grabbing hold of the dagger's handle.

I stopped and then peeked over the corner. There, on the dirty, trashed floor laid the body of a female junkie, her eyes ripped out, blood leaking out of the corner of her mouth, her head horribly deformed with shoe prints on her forehead. Standing over here was a pissed off brunette guy, kinda scrawny, smoking and taking a drag of smoking.

"J...Jack," choked the girl, "P...please...I..."

The guy rised his foot and slammed it on top of her head, killing her, he sneered, "Shut up, Alice."

My eyes widen, the girl was dead. She's dead and I just stood there and watched. What the fuck is wrong with me! Why didn't I do anything? That girl...gone. I felt my arms my body shake in rage and before I knew it, I was facing the asshole.

"Vile bastard," I hissed, "You'll pay for your crimes."

"Really? A little bitch like you?" he laughted, "I liked to see you..."

SMACK!

His cocky attitude annoyed me so I just smacked him as hard as I could which knocked him down onto the ground. God, I wish I could do that to my cheating ex-bastard, Duncan. He started up at me before pushing himself up and tackling me to the cement wall. He punched me in the gut and in my head several times, trying to hurt me. Keyword: trying. I kept a bored look on my face and slapped him again. I pulled out my dagger and stabbed him in the arms. The guy, Jack I think it was, howled in pain and clutched the dagger, yanking it out of his flesh.

The the idiot attacked me with my own blade. He stabbed me in the chest multiply times only I pretended to be in pain. I let out groans and screams then let my body lean against the wall and slide down. I hear him laughing then he started to stroke my hair, never noticing my hand reaching in my pocket.

"You know, your kinda hot," he chuckled, "Maybe I could have a little fun with you..."

BANG!

He clutched his groin in pain as I shot him. Maybe that was a little too harsh to shot him there, but no way I'm letting that fuck _touch_ me. I watched as his body fall to his knees, his eyes just burning with hatred for me. I scoffed and pulled out my dagger from my stomach, making a loud squelching sound and then walked towards him.

Guiding my blade across his rough skin, I sliced him open, from the right side of his thigh up to the left side of his neck. His entrails spilled onto the floor in a bloody heap near my shoes. He fell backwards, screaming like he was possessed and clawing the ground. I sat on his stomach, putting pressure on his wound and getting the back side of my pants bloody. His hands then shot up to my neck as he started to squeeze.

"How does it feel to be the victim," I asked as he tried, pathetically, to choke me, "I can see the real you, a egotistical little boy that takes pleasure in seeing others suffer. That women...Alice...she'll be the last person you'll ever hurt."

Raising my dagger, I plunged it down into his face, in between his eyes. I watched the light fade from his eyes as the pool started to seep through the stab wound. His beefy hands let go of my neck, on of his fingers got caught in my necklace and ripped it off me, revealing my stitches. However, the only two witness in a five mile radius were dead, one at the hand of her so-called lover and one by my hand.

Suddenly, the body started to convulse violently despite the fact that he was dead. I quickly go off of him, spying his exposed insides started to gurgle the spray out blood. Reaching into his guts, I pulled out what a earlier suspected. A tiny imp. Shriveled with charred, red skin, it was no taller than a foot and it was hissing out to me, crying the claw my hand off. I held it out arm length away from me, glaring at this ugly creature. It was because of these things that good people go bad. This man, that now laid dead before me, was probably a good person before this imp took over his body.

Taking out my revolver, I shot at the imp, instantly killing it. The body started to disintegrate, becoming redish dust and flying away in the wind. I looked over at the body, now feeling guilty for what I did. But I had no choice, it was either kill him and save his soul or let that demon continue to control his body and hurt other people. I saw that the body continue to shake, then I saw even more imps crawling out of his intestines.

I hissed in disgust as they little demons crawled out covered in blood and guts, clawing at the skin and organs, ripping them to shred. Then they spotted me and abandon their previous goal of tearing apart the guy's body to trying to attack me. I shot at them one by one, each of them turning to dust, by one lucky bastards managed to sink its fangs into my pants leg and ripping off, not only a chunk of jean, but a large chunk of my undead flesh as well. I shot at him but the blood had already seeped out and stain my jeans and shoes.

Immediately, my wounds started to heal and I watched the demon ashes disappear into the air, leaving behind their slaughtered host body. All the blood already left his body and stained his clothing and the ground under him, same for his dead girl. A new day and it starts with the death of two innocent soul caught in the web of the imps. God, I hate Mondays.

I pulled out the dagger from his skull, shoved it into my bag and threw the guy's body over my shoulder than carried the girl bridal style then procide to walked out of the alleyway. I knew that they were junkies and castaways from society, but so was I and even I knew that they at least deserved a proper burial.

o0o

The cemetery was quiet, no one around and the day was just starting, the sun rising up from the horizon into the sky, changing the pinkish-purple heavens in a lively blue. I carried the two bodies near the far side of the of all the graves, near a clustered of roses bushes. Laying Alice and Jack near the roses, I started digging. The gound was moist and soft, making so much more easier for my nails to sink down into, no worms, bugs or roots in the soil to block my way.

After an hour, I finish digging their grave. They were both six feet deep and six feet in height, perfect for the dead couple. Picking up the female body first, I jumped down into the grave and gently laid her down, hands entwinded and resting on her stomach where her unborn baby of that bastard will forever stay. I checked one more time for a heart beat, either from the mother or the baby. There was none, they were too far gone. I gave the same treatment for the male body.

I started pilling on the dirt onto their bodies, whispering a prayer under my breath that Father Tasker taught me. Soon, every pound of dirt covered them and, using the roses, I marked the graves by twisted the stems together to form a cross and sticking into the ground. I got up, not even noticing the dirt and cuts on my hand, and bow to the graves and started to walk away.

"God above," I wished, "Please take care of them and their baby."

Checking my watch, I saw that it was heading towards noon and, since my lessons started at 11: 50 am no doubt that Chichi had gone into my room to find me missing. But I can't go home now, not yet at least. Work needed to be done, sinners and demons needed to die, I had to be covered in blood by those sinners.

Blood had to be shed

Lives had to be saved.

o0o

I watched the bitch swing from side to side, unmoving, dead eyes staring back with anger and hatred. The noose around her neck tighten and made the red mark on her skin turn darker. Downstairs, I could hear the screaming and cries of her infant daughter and son as they were in pain from the beating their bitch of a mother had given them.

Suicide: the coward's way out. Don't blame me for this woman's death, she did this herself. All through this day, I kept patrolling the streets for demons from the secrecy of the alleyways. After about five to six hours of nothing, I started heading back home. That's when I heard her children screaming and I busted in the home where her fist was was frozen in mid-swing. She was horrified, heh, you would be too if a stitched up walking corpse came crashing into your house, ripping the hings off your door. I loved children, they were innocent and I hated abusive jackasses that take their anger out on them.

God, they looked awful; covered in scars, bruises and bleeding cuts, the girl wore a tore up, horrible excuse for a dress while the boy only had a pair of boxers on. And, god, not to be rude, but they smell! Not only had the mother not bath them, but she didn't even bother to keep the house clean either. Roaches, ants, trash on the floor, broken glass, rotting leftovers on table, ugh! It just so disgusting!

"Give me the children," I said to her, "You won't have them anymore."

Out of the blue, she started attacking me; yelling at the top of her lungs that I had no right to take her children, that they were hers and that they weren't gonna leave them like her husband did. This was bad, the woman was mentally unstable and hysterical and her children where in between us. I'm not gonna loose them because me or that mother did something stupid. Then I saw a glint of a blade and saw the steak knife in her hand.

I saw her lunged at the daughter. But instead, her blade sunk into my forehead when got between the too. I glared at her when she started screaming bloody murder, yelling that I was a demon and that wouldn't die and blah, blah, bah, and then she took off upstairs. Yanking out the knife from my head and placing the frighted children on a nearby sofa, I took after the mother so she wouldn't do anything stupid.

And this is what I found: herself hanging by a noose around her neck. It was obvious that the noose was made earlier in the day though I wasn't sure if she was gonna use it on herself or, God-forbid, her children, either way, the damaged is done. And now I feel guilty. In one day, I let three people die, four if you count the unborn baby. When I first took on this job of kill demons and protecting people, I thought that I would never see myself fail and that it would cost a life.

"Miss?"

I almost lost my shit when I heard the little girl. She had climbed up the stairs and was behind me, staring at her mother's hanging body. Instantly, I picked her up and ran out the room and downstairs, getting away from that room. Thankfully, her brother stayed put on the couch, both of their crying has ceased, but the tears kept pouring out.

"Mama...dead, isn't she," stated the girl.

I looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with her, "Yeah."

"Where will we go?" asked the boy.

"Somewhere safe," I replied and put the girl next to her brother, "Stay here, I'll be back.

"You won't leave us," cried the girl, clutching my hand, "We don't want to be alone."

I gently pried her off of me, "You're not gonna be alone, I'm gonna make some calls and you'll be placed in a new home. And you won't get hurt there."

Walking out of the room, I entered a small kitchen and began searching for a phone since a kitchen was the most likely place to have a phone in. I found an outdated cellphone in a purple purse and started dialing 911. A women answered and I stated that there was a suicide and two abused children were alone in the house, I gave the address and hung up. I sighed, I seem to run into too many children during my job then I'm confortable with.

That Emily girl from two years ago was the first kid I encounter during my job and I thought she would be the last. Wrong! A month after that I met another child then another pair and so on and so forth. I told Chichi about this and she said it was because demon tend to attack the most innocent of souls.

I heard the police sirens coming closer to the apartment so I walked out of the room, kissed the two kids on the cheek and told them that the police will be here in a few minutes to take them to a good home. They wanted me to stay, but I lied and said that I had to save another little boy and girl. I handed them three $20 bills from my bag and handed it to them, telling them it was 'toy' money.

I ran out the door and back into the alleyway were another street was waiting on the other side, deserted. It had gotten pretty late and I'm sure that Chichi would now like my head on a silver platter. Enough of avoid them, I walked towards the street and started looking for a payphone. Thankful, Chichi let me have a phone in the tower to order delivery and talk to my friends. Popping in my quarter, I dial my number and after the first ring it picked up.

"Hello, Chichi, look I..."

"GWENDOLYN MORANA BLACKWOOD! WHERE IN THE NAME OF GOD ARE YOU!"

I sighed. I could already see myself being in my room having my eardrums blown off my my watcher for leaving with permission, for going out in broad daylight, and not calling to tell her. I held the phone at arms length so I wouldn't go deaf from her ranting. After a few minutes, Chichi voice got strained and I could press the phone to my ear.

"Chichi, look I'm sorry about bailing out my lesson and leaving the tower," I stated, "But my body sensed a demon and...I got caught up in a whole lot of shit today."

"..."

"I know I should have said something to you and I know I was stupid for going out during the day, but I didn't want to worry you. I let four people die today. And seeing all these people I let die and knowing that I was too late to save them, I...I just...I didn't want you to worry."

"...and you leaving without warning wasn't going to make me worry how?"

I looked down at the concrete, "I'm sorry, I was stupid and selfish and I promise to make it up to you."

"Come home, Gwendolyn," she replied calmly, "Now."

She hung up. I was screwed. When Chichi acted calmly when I broke the rules, I knew I was in trouble. She had acted the same way when she had found out I made human friends. Eight lessons, washed the altar from head to toe, rake the leaves, those were just the few of the hundred chores Chichi made me do to make up for break a rule. One rule, hundreds of chores. God only knows how many things I have to clean and fix to make up for this.

Putting the phone back on the reciver, I turned my body towards the streets. Police cars and children service had arrived at the apartment and I saw a social worker walk out with the two kids. I smiled and started heading home. Surprisingly, there were a bunch of abandon street in NY, all you had to do was look for them. I sighed and rolled up my sleeves and saw my stitches coming loose and the sky was already getting dark.

"I'm so screwed."

**o0o**

**And that is the end of ch. 2. This is kinda a filler for the next chapter where I will introduce one of Gwen's main enemy. I hope all of you liked this, more active in the violence then the prologue. Also, I know some of you are wondering about Gwen's new friends that she has mention, Circe, Neil, and others, but I'll introduce them later in my fic, especially Circe and Neil who play a big role in Gwen's life. Also, the reason why Duncan is a 'cheating bastard' will be explained later in the fic, too. Hint: he was part of the reason she was murdered.**

**NEXT: Chapter 2 - The Devil's Mistress**

**Read and Review!**


	3. The Devil's Mistress

**Hi guys, I'm back and with chapter 2 :D!**

**Sorry about the typo on the last chapter (this is chapter 2 not 1, but you know that). I want to say thanks to Sunshine-Midnight123, whateva876, Jason Kreuger Myers, Always Ashlyn, Oceans Eagle, Panda Reaper, TheSocialLoner, and Cuteflopsy for your reviews and I thank everyone who read my fic and liked it. (Also, thanks to Lord Maximus and sk8ergal99 for the fav). Oh and thanks to HyperForce for putting my fic in your community group.**

**o0o**

**Chapter 2**

**The Devil's Mistress**

(Unknown P.O.V.)

"Chichi is very angry with you, Gwendolyn," said Father Tasker, refilling the votive candles.

Gwen nodded her head weakly, "I know."

After the undead goth had return to the church, she was greeted by her angry watcher and a disaproving Father. Chichi had pulled Gwen into the empty church and lectured her for the next eight hours straight, no breaks, no rest, just eight hour of rules, lessons and disaproving glances at her. After she was finish, she handed Gwen a long list of chores she had to do and another list of lessons and trainning tactics she had to study for an upcoming exam Chichi would usually put her through.

"Forget about night partol," said Chichi, "You've got work to do. You can start by washing the front steps of the church."

After washing the steps, raking the leaves, polishing the statues, and waxing the floors all night, she was only a tenth of the way through with the list. Now, Gwen had to help Father replace all the melted down candles in the altar and scrub down the pews before any morning visitors came over. Her watch read 6:45 am, at seven, she had to get her ass back into the tower before morning prayers began.

Gwen was on the last pew, scrubbing it down with a damp cloth, her hands already reeked of bleach and floor wax from her previous chores. She was getting bored, not tired, but hopelessly bored. The goth could have been out slaughtering demons, killing off demented sinners and cleaning up New York's streets, but noooo. Chichi had to go on righteous on her ass for skipping lessons and sneaking into the city during broad daylight.

'_Though I did kinda deserve it_,' thought Gwen as she tossed the rag into the bucket of water, '_Should have told Chichi or at least begged her until she gave it. She always does after about the 16th time_.'

Picking up the bucket, Gwen walked towards the back hallway were it led to Father Tasker's office, the storage room, the bathrooms, a small kitchen and the back exit. Kissing the Father on the cheek and wishing him a good afternoon, the man opened the door and allowed Gwen to sneak into the hallway just as the first family came knocking on the church doors.

"Coming," yelled Father, closing the door once Gwen was safely inside.

As Father went to open the church doors, Gwen started walking towards the the storage room. The thing was cramped, shelves stocked with boxes of votive candles, damaged chairs and broken statue pieces, the floor was crap, stained with grim and dust. The only light that came from the room was the tiny window that breathe air into his place.

Dropping the bucket onto the floor, the goth pulled out the rag and rung out all the dirty water inside back into the bucket and threw it onto one of the selves to dry. She then dumped the filthy liquid out of the window and onto the grass beneath it. The bucket fell to the floor and the goth walked out and closed the door behind her.

"..._Father, now in one accord we declare our love for You, and the riches of the love of the Son are pouring through. He declares the Father's name_..."

Mixed voices echoed throughout the church as they sung today's hymn, some old, some young, high pitched, low pitched, just a large group of voices floating through the air. It was the morning prayers, already seated at the clean pews, their bibles open, singing their hearts out. Gwen quietly walked towards the exit where she came from and peeked out.

Although it was freakishly early in the day, already five to six pews were crowded with people, families mostly with the occasional old couple and religious business man and women. Mostly, it was the adults singing, the children attending where either half alseep or secretly playing gameboy behind their parents's back.

Father Tasker was standing infront of the podium, reading from the huge bible in front of him. He spoke slowly and clearly, his voice reaching the ears of everyone in the church, even the children started to play attention. However, one kid, a boy, almost eight, got up from the pews, his parents didn't even notice as they tried to find the page Father was on, and ran up to Tasker up on the

"Can I see Jesus," asked the tiny kid, in a high-pitch, almost squeaky voice, pointing towards the statue of Jesus of Nazareth.

"Of course, child," replied Father, waving towards the statue.

Smiling, the tiny boy climbed up the platform stage and ran up to the altar. The statue of Jesus was twice as tall as the boy, painted beautifully, hovering over the tiny kid. Gwen almost ran out when the kid started to climb onto the statue, sitting on its shoulder and cupped his hands to the statue's ear.

"Dear God," said the young boy, "Can you take care of my new baby brother? I want to be the best big brother to him!"

It was really adorable seeing the little boy whispering his pray into the ear of the Jesus statue, like he was telling a secret to his friend. The funny part was that not only was he telling his prayer to the statue. but he started to tell it about his school life and his little league baseball team. Gwen wanted to laugh, the boy was so silly. After a while, just as he was telling statue Jesus about how he hates math 'cause it's too hard to memorize multiples, his father came up to him and told him it was time to go.

Gwen watched the kid go off with his father and pregnant mother, walking out of the church, still humming the morning hymn. Sometimes the goth wished she was a kid again, no problems, naive outlook on life, all happy-go-lucky without a care in the world. Children have the best life of all the people, even when depressed or abused, they still find happiness with is incredible. Too be young and happy again. Then Gwen heard faint wind chimes in my ear, Chichi's special call system.

'_Better go see what else Chichi wants_,' thought Gwen, '_How bad can these chores get_?'

Oh, how she wish she didn't think that.

o0o

"Who the fuck cleans a chimney in the middle of summer?" yelled Gwen into the pink and purple sky.

The day came and went so fast that Gwen wonder if God wanted to punish her further since she didn't even finish half of the crap on her list. After leaving the church, she had to not only study both Rome and Greek history but she also had to wash the entire tower, inside and out. Do you know how hard it is to hold a textbook in one hand and mop the floor with the other? Not very easy and Gwen had to suffer mutiple slips and got part of her book wet.

While Gwen screamed into the Heaven, Chichi was one the ground handing up wet clothings on the clothesline while folding the clean and dry ones into a small basket. The watcher was really old fashion, didn't believe in washing machine and said only lazy people use a machine to do their work, like microwaves and dishwashers. So to wash their clothing, Chichi would go to a nearby river or lake in the very rural parts of the state and wash them there. The tiny angel looked up towards the undead goth.

"Young ladies who sneak out of their rooms after their watchers told them to stay put, that's who," answered Chichi, picking up the basket of laundry and started flying towards the tower, "Maybe now you'll learn to listen, Gwendolyn."

Gwen sighed as she continue to plunged the chimney brush down the soot covered tunnel. Her hands and clothes where already covered in black soot and so was her face, she could only image how long it would take for her to wash it off. Placing both her hand on her back, she pushed her back foward, making a loud 'CRACK' sound of her back being straighten.

'_Thank God, I couldn't feel that_,' thought Gwen.

Throwing the brush off the rood, Gwen saw the brush create a small soot explosion when it made contact with the ground. She, too, then threw herself off the roof and, unlike the brush, made a graceful landing. Picking up the chimney brush, Gwen made her way towards the tower, but not before entering the church and putting the brush back inside the storage room.

Chichi was already inside, cleaning the dissection table and organizing the books on her bookselves. The tiny watcher took one look at Gwen's soot covered body and shook her head in distaste. She made Gwen take off her shoes and clothing and put them outside to avoid getting the floor dirty and leaving black footprints.

After that, the goth ran up the stairs and walked straight into the bathroom, turning on the shower head and dumped a glomb of shampoo on her head. After a three and a half hour shower, removing soot from every part of her body and her hair, Gwen walked out of the shower, smiling and soot-free.

The goth changed into a fishnet shirt over a black bra, a torn up PVC skirt with a chain belt, ripped silk stockings, and comback boots. She also cut her hair short again and redyed it completely black. Pulling a pair of fingerless, stripped gloves over her hands, Gwen walked over her nightstand and check her phone. She had two voicemails waiting for her. She pressed a button and listen to the first message.

"_Hey, Gwenie-Girl_!" said a sing-song voice, "_Circe here. Hey, I've been trying to call you for the past two days. When am I ever gonna hear you sexy voice again, hmm? Come on, I'm sure that winged witch watcher isn't over-doing you too much chores and lessons, right? Call me! Please_!"

The second message soon came on, this time by a deep voice: "_Hey there, Stitches. It's me, Neil. Listen, me and the guys haven't seen you down here at the bar for some time now and I've really missed you. Call me some time, 'kay Hot Stuff. Love ya_."

Gwen laughed a bit, something she hadn't done in a long time. Circe and Neil, her two best friends. Loyal, honest, loving, and absolutly nothing like her old friends. She could trust them and they could trust her without a doubt. She made a mental reminder to call them both back when they were both awake and out of their classes.

CRASH!

"AAHHHHH!"

Whipping her head towards the door, Gwen snatched her katana sword from her dresser and dashed down the stairs. Bursting through the door, the goth found her watcher slowly backing into a corner as a ten foot winged serpent demon ripped apart a chair the watcher threw at it. The creature then spotted the undead goth girl and bared its fangs at her.

"Gwendolyn!" shrieked Chichi as the demon came towards me, full force.

The goth girl quickly dodge the creature's attack, avoided having fangs plunged into her body. Using the katana, Gwen jumped onto of the snakes head and stabbed it in between its eyes. Hissing and shrieking in pain, the snake demon thrashed its head side to side, trying to get the goth and the sword off him.

However, the goth held onto the stuck sword for dear undead life. Chichi barely missed a headbutt from the creature when it threw its head at her. Having been annoyed by the thing, Gwen grabbed hold of the top part of the serpant's mouth and yanked it back, completely ripping the top half of the head off. The creature fell down, finally dead.

Slowly approching the demon, the watcher started to inspect the corpse as Gwen pulled her sword out of the snake's ripped off head and putting it onto of the dissection table. Chichi gasped as she pointed at a mark on the serpant's body, one which both females were familiar with. A form of complex knot art that circled around a blacken female being impaled by a spear. The mark of a deadly Demi-Abaddon.

"Desdemona, " hissed my watcher, eying the brand on the demonic carcass.

"She's back," replied Gwen.

Picking up the dead demon body, Gwen chucked the thing into the hidden furnace and watched it burned and crackle in the flames. Skin began melting off, sizzling and started to shriveled up, the exposed bones began to darken and easily were broken down. The undead goth glared at it while her watcher paced the floor in a frighten manner.

"Oh Lord...why now...why...why does she do this...why doesn't she leave you alone," Chichi murmed under her breath.

"'Cause this it what she does," Gwen answered, slamming the heavy metal door, "She wants to mess with my head. Waiting for me to screw up to go for the kill. She want me to stop protecting and start killing."

Snatching her katana blade from the dissection table, the goth flung open the door and ran into the darken forest. Chichi, whom barely had time to register, did a double take a began flying after the goth. However, despite her best efforts, Gwen's legs were much faster then her watcher's tiny wings.

"Where are you going?" shouted Chichi, trying to catch up with the goth.

"I'm going after the bitch," yelled Gwen, increasing her running, "Don't follow me."

"Gwendolyn!" yelled Chichi, "Gwendolyn! Stop, please!"

But it was too late, the undead girl faded into the darkness of the forest. The watcher stopped and gently dropped to the ground, a good fifty yards away from the tower, staring saddly at the path the goth took. Chichi wasn't anger, no, she was far from anger. She was scared. Scared for Gwen.

"Lord above," prayed Chichi, "Please watch over her."

o0o

After escaping Chichi and entering the city, she began searching for a place where the demonic women would be located. Half an hour later, Gwen finally found a trail, in the form of disembodied limps. They were cold, blood already drained and all lined up and forming a path through the alleys. Having no choice but to follow them, Gwen walked by the limbs and they lead to the last place that the goth would image the demonic bitch would be at.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art was one of the crown jewels of New York, right next the Statue of Liberty, Central Park and Empire State Building. Inside house priceless pieces of art that could never be replace and Gwen loved coming here early in the morning, after sneaking away from Chichi, Father Tasker and their lessons, it was less crowded, less people to reconize her or notice her stitches. All the artwork was so beautiful and once she saw the _Danse Macabre_ exhibit they use to have, Pieter Brueghel the Elder's _The Triumph of Death_, it was just so perfect for an art freak like herself.

Gwen was confuse that Desdemona wanted to come her. The goth knew that the demonic bitch was not a big fan of mortal art and rarely would come towards a human's painting unless the person used his or her own blood and organs as the medium. But now was not the time to question the location of the bitch, now it was time to find the bitch.

It was pass midnight and the museum, not a big surprise, was closed. Climbing up to the top of a nearby fire escapes, she landed on the roof of the building were the garden cafe was and began searching for the door. Gwen was glad that this place had a rooftop cafe, that meant a door inside the museum, no breaking in necessary. The last thing she wanted was to look like a criminal.

She was also glad that the museum guards sometimes left that door open. This was one of the those time. Clutching her sword, Gwen open the door and slowly walked down the steps into the silent and possible dangerous museum.

o0o

(Gwen's P.O.V.)

Dead silent, that's what I was met with when I entered the museum, like a cemetery or a library. My boots made a loud 'STOMP!' when I walked on the polished floor, the sound echoed throughout the museum as I made my way towards the ground floor. I spotted the nighttime guards knocked out behind the desk and the security system completely trashed. No surprise, Desdemona did love her privacy.

"_Izzy! We know you are down there. You are under arrest_!"

I jumped and whipped out my blade and faced...a tv? It was one of the security screens that, instead of monitoring the museum rooms, was playing a rerun of Total Drama Island. I felt my blood boil and my anger rising every second. What I wouldn't do to kill them all. I put away my blade and watched the fuzzy screen.

"_You mean all that trash you were talkin' was true_?" asked a surprised Leshawna, shielding her eyes away from the lights.

"_No, just the RCMP part, see ya_," answered Izzy before pointed to the sky screaming, "_YOU'LL NEVER GET ME ALIVE!"_

I watched as Izzy ran out of view from the camera, laughing like a madmen, with the RCMP on her tail. Rolling my eyes, I shut the damn thing off. If I had to guess, I still think Izzy is running from them. Last time I saw her, or anyone else from Total Drama, was the afternoon before the TDWT Farewell Party Chris was throwing for us. I wonder how that went? I was dead before I could even get there.

But I had no time to think of _them_, they weren't worth the time nor the headaches.

I picked one of the pamphlets one the museum and skim through the information about current exhibits. Right now, the ancient Egyptian exhibit was becoming popular, having new pieces being shipped directly from Egypt. And what's better, it was right behind me. Tossing the paper over my shoulder, I started towards the next room.

The Ancient Egyptian exhibit is incredible beautiful, at least in my point of view. In the doorway were two towering seated figures of past, the pharaohs Amenhotep and Ramses. Inside the exhibit itself were glass cases were perfectly placed in the large exhibit room contain all thing egyptian: sarcophagus, headresses, jewelry, slabs of hieroglyphics and models of the pyramids.

There was a gorgeous, solid gold necklace in a display case that caught my attention. Usually things like these were gaudy and kind of stupid, like something one of the cheerleaders would like to wear, but this one was really nice, with carvings and intricate pattern. There was also a reflection of a dead corpse...wait...WHAT! I turned around and felt disgusted.

A swarm of imps were feasting on the corpse of a male security guard. Poor man was in his late 60's and, in less then a minute, these demons had finished his lower torso off. Filthy things kept hissing and growling at each other for pieces of meat, their mouths filled with chewed up flesh and chunks flew out whenever then opened their jaws. They reminded me of my little brother when he ate burger, but of course, my brother wasn't a disgusting, cannibalistic demon.

"I was wondering when you would arrive, my dear Gwendolyn."

Spinning around I faced the queen of bitches herself, Desdemona. Standing tall and proud, like an old Victorian queen, Desdemona emerged from the shadows. Her eyes were black, completely black, from her pupils to the sclera, it kinda made her look as if she had no eyes at all. Tattooed to the corner of her eyes were three, tiny vertical lines descending in half inch, inch, and an inch and a half down. The bitch's hair was wild, like one of those model hair that was poofy and crazy and blown by the wind and all that shit, but she had a more demonic look to it. She also wield a gothic styled scythe.

Tied to her neck was a spiked choker, and not I don't mean those rubber chokers, the spikes were real, crafted from stained metals and cut skin like paper. Lastly, she wore a floor length dress. The top part of the dress was normal: tight, strapless corset, black of couse, and then it the corset faded into a skirt and stopped mid-thigh. But the rest of the skirt wasn't pretty...or normal. It was made of skulls. Human skulls. The skulls of children and babies, both alive and unborns that she killed herself.

Do you know how some mothers have miscarrages? Or when children and babies fall down stairs and heights that causes them to die? Or how about babies that drown in bathtubs cause they slip and fall? Then you have children 'accidently' drinking bleach. Accidents like that that happen everyday. Hey, guess what?

They're not accidents.

Desdemona causes them

"Do you admire my gown, Gwendolyn?" she asked, patting one of the many tiny skulls that covered her legs, "I had the good fortune of replacing a few damaged ones. Human children are such pesks, aren't they? Can't really take care of themselves, leeching off their parents. More children should drink chemical cleaners, that way, I don't have to worry about their skulls getting damaged from a petty fall."

God, there was nothing better in this world that exterminating this bitch from this world. I can see all the faces of the children and babies that Desdemona has killed, their fearfull expressions, their cries for help, their screams for mercy. All went unanswered because I couldn't reach them in time. Now, their skulls are the decoration of Satan's Mistress.

"It's been a while, hasn't it," I said, "Since I've last seen you."

"Yes, I believe it's been far too long," she stated, walking along side the glass cases of headdresses, "I apologize for my delay, I should know better than to leave without any notice. Your probably wondering what I'm plotting for you demise, hehe, my dear, when will you learn that I mean you no ill will. I'm not like a thieving employee or...a cheating lover. You understand _that_ feeling, don't you, my dear Gwendolyn?"

I grit my teeth, I refuse to let that bitch have the satisfation of seeing me angry or upset, that meant she had power over me and like Hell I let someone have control over me, "What the fuck is it this time, Desdemona?"

"The Egyptian were intelligent people weren't they, Gwendolyn?" asked Desdemona, completely ignoring my question as she turn to view a case of headdresses, "Creating some of the most lovely piece of art in the world, sculpting a stone with three languages so that future generations could decipher their words, the monuments they build to their pharohs, worshiping them as if they were gods! Oh how people must have envied them. You would have made a beautiful queen, my dear."

"Stop the shitty games, bitch," I growled.

Desdemona turned to me and had this disapproving look on her face, reminding me of my mother or Chichi when I snuck out of my room, "My Lord, Gwendolyn, such vile, tasteless vocabulary is so unbecoming of you. What ever happen to the sweet little girl I knew so many years ago?"

I was confused. Years ago? "What are you talking about?"

"So many lives you've lived and yet you can't remember any of them," Desdemona sighed, "Not even the one that began all this."

"What?"

She sighed again, "One day you'll understand everything and all your questions shall be answer in time. In the meantime, how is your watcher? Scared out of her wits, I sure. I guess that is my fault, my gift was a bit too extreme for her, don't you agree?"

"You almost had her killed."

"My gift almost killed an angel," mocked Desdemona, putting her hand to cover her lips, acting as if she was worry, "Oh dear, oh my, how horrible I must have been. I guess demons don't make good gifts, do they. But maybe, if you would just stop protecting these pitiful humans and angel and come to Hell where you truly belong..."

"Fuck that!" I pulled out my katana, "Like Hell I'll ever join your sick little world!"

Sighing, the demonic women shook her head, "You just don't know when to give up, do you. Oh well."

Pointing her scythe at me, a blast of red engery shot straight at me and knocked me back into a display case. The vase that was on it flew into the air and I just barely caught it in time. Desdemona giggled and shot at me again. I dogde just in time and set the vase onto the floor and ducked behind a sarcophagus.

I then hear a little gurggling sound above my head and saw a tiny imp looking down on me, a twisted smile on its face and laughing like crazy. I stabbed the annoying thing in the head and its laughing stopped. The already dim light in its eye died and its body went limp. Yanking it off my sword I walked out in front of the demonic bitch and chuck out in front of her path.

"My children," cried Desdemona, running over to the dead demon, picking it up and craddling its body to her chest; she looked up at me with confused eyes, "Gwendolyn, how could you?"

"Easy. It's a demon. It must die," I hissed.

Sighing, Desdemona whispered a chant under her breath and the dead demon bursted into a pile of black flames then looked up at me, "It was a child."

"So were they," I growled, pointing at her skulls.

"...not anymore."

My anger got the best of me and I tackled her to the ground. I tried to stab her in the head, but one the imps jumped onto my head and started to claw my eyes out, causing me to drop my katana and its mistress to push me off her. I finally got that wretched thing off just as Desdemona sliced open my stomach. Blood poured out and my organs were exposed, the sight made Desdemona laugh.

Desdemona was the cruelest bitch I ever face. And to think she was once a human like me, but unlike her, I never sold my soul to Lucifer. Chichi told me that she was once a sweet, innocent and lonely child who grew up into a beautiful young women who had everything to live for and everything to gain. And yet she gave it all away for what? Desdemona said it was for me. That we were like sisters, that we understood one another, that we share interests and common ground, but I never understood what she meant. There was a lot of thing I didn't understand, about her and about myself.

I dodged another blast from her scythe, the bitch just kept coming at me. My stomach began to heal, except for the stitched flesh that got ripped off, but still part of my inners were showing. Just hope those camera were really destoryed. Jumping from glass case to glass case, I manage to avoid all the blasts, however the glass wasn't so lucky. Thankfully, none of the artifacts were hit.

Jumping down, my katana and her scythe both made brutal contact with each other, loud clanging sound ringing in our ears. We both tried to push the other one off, but we were equal matched in strength we just jumped away from each other. I came charging at her, she front flipped into the air, her foot made contact with my back and jumped onto one of the intact cases as I fell to the floor, crashing into one of the pyramid models.

"You getting careless, Gwendolyn," replied Desdemona, getting down from the case, "Was my absent too much of a relaxation time for you? Perhaps I should consider destorying human lives more often. Maybe children, as I have said previously they are such leeches. Ugly little things, chubby balls of flesh, no intelligence, no discipline, causing trouble. Why do they even exist?"

"You bitch!" I hissed.

I came at her again, this time aiming at her neck but she bend her spine backward ninty degree. Fuck her flexablity! Then she swiped her scythe at me, but I side step the attack and punched her gut. She flinched and one of her imps charged at me. I just caught the ugly thing and twisted its head off. Using the head as a ball, I threw it at the group of imps and knocked them all off one of the cases.

This gave Desdemona a chance to choke me with her blade. I just barely took hold of it before it sliced my head off. I dropped to the floor and sunk my blade into her stomach. She yelled pulled my kicked me down. I watched her back up and pulled my katana out of her, tossing it back to me. Black blood poured from her abdomen, unlike me, she didn't heal that quickly.

Desdemona then started to laugh. And let me tell you, her laughter wasn't sweet, it was dark and craze. Behind me I hear her imp children laughing, too, almost as dark as their 'mother.' Clicking her tongue, the imps crawled back towards Desdemona as she bled, hugging her skirt.

"It seems that our time is up, my dear," replied Desdemona, "I promise that we'll meet again. But next, try not to be so destructive with our surroundings."

Then, like her demon children, burst into purplish flames and disappeared.

Growling, I pried myself off the glass shards covered floor and glared at the smoldering spot where Desdemona and her 'children' disappeared. Broken glass covered the entire floor yet, thankfully, none of the artifacts were damaged during the battle. However one or two sarcophagus had toppled over, but I'm pretty sure they were fine, admit a little banged up. My stitches were a wreck and threated to fall off at any moment, pieces of glass got stuck inside my skin as well as wooden bits from the models.

Suddenly, an alarm began to sound and the fire sprinklers went off. Fuck! The smoke from Desdemona set off the fire alarm! I could bet that the fire department and the police would show up in a matter of minutes and no way in hell was I staying. I began to sprint down the stairs and towards the entrance. The large doors where locked shut and I had not time to find the key.

Taking a few steps back, I threw my body onto the door and the hinges broke off and both me and the door ended up outside onto of the front entrance steps. Police sirens were hear in the distances, maybe four to three miles away. I smiled, thankfully to get out, but when I started down the steps I froze.

In front of the entrance steps to the museum were the dead bodies of two children, both heads were split in half, their skulls ripped open.

"You vile bitch," I screamed into the night, "I'm gonna kill you if it's the last thing I do!"

o0o

**And that is the end of chapter 2, and now you know why Gwen is extremely protective of children. I not that great at writing battle scene, this one is pretty short, so if you guys have any hints or comments that could help me, I'd love that.**

**I've been to New York a couple of times and know a few places well, I plan on going to college there in the near future.**

**To summarize Desdemona's character: she's very sophisticated, well-mannered and highly intelligent; she very crafty, violent, and love to torture anything and anyone (especially human children). Her nickname is the Devil's/Satan's Mistress because she soul her soul to Satan when she was human. Hates human children, but loves demon children. My character, Desdemona, is based on the Queen of Hearts (from the novel, **_**Alice in Wonderland**_**), Claudia (**_**Silent Hill 3**_**) and the Evil Queen (**_**Snow White**_**). Those three are my favorite villainesses because they're so interesting and their goals are very disturbing.**

**Desdemona possess this love-hate relationship with Gwen, always battling and trying to kill her but at the same time really caring about her. Confusing, I known but it will all be explain in time. And I hope you like this chapter. Also, the next chapter will introduce Circe, Gwen's best friend.**

**NEXT: Chapter 3 - Doppelganger Danger**

**Read and Review! (pretty please with whipped cream and bat sprinkles on top).**


	4. Doppelganger Danger ReDone

**Hi, guys! I'm back**

**(P.S. I've posted some pics of my characters on my deviantart account. So if you guys want to see how Desdemona, Circe, Gwen and everyone else looks like, visit my profile and click on the link. Oh, also I'm making a comic out of my story and it begin here in chapter 3 so read the fic and then check out the comic when I upload it, if you want to.)**

**Chapter Warning: cursing, sexual reference, mentions of violent, slight yuri (well not really but this is just a warning to people who might think it is)**

**EDIT: I re-wrote this chapter because I really didn't like the way it turned out, I felt that it made Circe too girly-girl which she isn't, and she isn't completely obsessed with Gwen (this isn't another Sierra, people) and she is bi, so she likes guys too. So I've change this chapter a bit, some parts new, some still the same. I hope you enjoy :)**

**o0o**

**Chapter 3**

**Doppelganger Danger**

(Gwen's P.O.V.)

"_In other news, last night, the Metropolitan Museum of Art became a scene of a horrific crime. The bodies of two missing children, eight-years-old Thomas Anderson and six-years-old Sarah Malloy, were found murdered on the front steps of the museum, next to a trail of disembodied limbs that officers believe to belong to several people ranging from the age of 17 to 49, all from different genders. Not only that but one of the night guards were killed and the others knocked unconscious. Inside, the museum seemed to be ransacked but none of the museum staff have reported anything missing or badly damaged_..."

I turned off the tv and started walking around my room. The museum destruction were all over the news, each station reporting the same thing. Luckily, Desdemona completely trashed the video surveillance so there weren't any evidence of us being at that place. By the time I returned to the Tower, Chichi had already busted out the needle, thread, and tweezers and spent the next few hours removing every piece of glass and wood out of my skin.

After that, Chichi injected me with some heavy-duty anesthesia, personally made by her so it will affect me, and sent me to the lull-less void of sleep. By the time I came to, it was already 7:34pm, meaning I had slept through the entire day and right back into the darkness of night. My body was scrubbed clean and my stitches were redone, this time more secure then the last time.

Now I was alone in the tower; Chichi had left a note explaining that she had some 'errands' to run and won't be back until later. Father Tasker was also gone, left the state to visit some relatives in Phoenix for the birth of his niece. Normally, I would just get dressed, grab my weapons and start slaughtering, but I couldn't sense any demons nearby, none that where causing trouble anyway. And nothing good was on tv other than the destruction Desdemona and I caused and some reruns of old shows. All I could do was lean back on my bed and do nothing.

"_TEAR DOWN THE WALLS! WAKE UP THE WORLD! IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS!"_

My eyes snapped open at the familiar lyrics screaming from my cellphone. Yes, I do have a cell phone, bought and paid for by the very person who programed Arch Enemy's _We Will Rise_ as the ring tone for her calls. Also the person who was generous enough, and wealthy enough, to pay all the bills for it. I answered it.

"Ya know, when a gave you the phone, I was kinda hopin' you'd call me once in a while. Haven't heard your voice in a week. What the fuck, Gwenie-Girl?"

Cecilia Garica, or 'Circe' as most of the people called her, had been my best friend after my resurrection. Despite her harsh and vile language along with violence outbursts, she really is a nice girl underneath it all. And the plus side is that she isn't at all frightened of my undead state, although she did confuse me for a zombie when we met.

"Sorry, Ci," I replied, placing the phone closer to my ear, "It's been a busy week and I didn't want to burden you with my troubles."

"Yeah, because your 'boring' troubles dealing with demons and crazied psycho can't compare to the exciting world of homework and bitchy cliches of high school."

I rolled my eyes, "Your sarcasm is noted Circe."

"Sorry...anyway, did that winged harpy finally unlock the ball and chain she has on you or what?" asked the human girl.

Another fact about Circe, she had an extreme dislike for Chichi for the sole purpose of robbing me of a peaceful death. Well, that and keeping me away from my friends, the only people that can make me feel as if I'm living a normal existence. The feeling was mutual from my winged watcher as well, who could barely tolerate Circe and the others. Even though humans aren't suppose to know of my resurrection, there were no rules against it.

"Actually, Chichi is off running some errands and won't be back for some hours," I stated.

"So you've got time to kill," said Circe, "Come on, I doubt the world will end if you take one night off."

"Circe..." I said, before drifting off. God, when was the last time I did anything normal? Nothing I did classified as normal.

I hear a snort from the other end, "Don't try to use that B.S. parent tone, Gwenie-Girl, that's got no effect on me. Look all I'm saying is just come and have a little fun. There's a new cafe that's open downtown and it's practically empty right now."

"I don't eat, you know that."

"Didn't stop you before."

"That's cause I though I would have _some_ tastebuds left in me," I retorted, "I was wrong."

"Come _on_, Gwen! Just half an hour, nothing gonna happen," begged Circe.

"Isn't today Thursday? Shouldn't you be studying or getting ready for school?" I asked, Circe was still finishing up her last few months of senior year in high school.

"Don't get your purple panties in a twist," she laughed, "Tomorrow is a teacher planning day so I got the entire night off. Plus, it's not like my parents care."

Even over the phone, I could feel and hear her voice cracked. Her parents were always a sore subject since they never were around, even when she was a baby. "Alright," I answered, "Just for an hour or so."

"Wahoo!" shrieked Circe, causing me to pull the phone away from my ear, "Finally! Alright, the cafe is called 'Temptations' and it's downtown near the east part of Lower Manhattan. I'll text you the address."

"Okay, thank you, Circe," I answered, getting up from the bed, "I'll see you later."

"Later, G!"

After the call ended, I toss the phone onto the bed started getting dressed. There wasn't much clothing in my closet, majority of them were ripped to shreds or they werent long enough to cover my stitches. After tossing out the rejects, I manage to find something to wear: a still intact corset top, a PVC skirt, leggings, and a pair of pumps I found in corner. Even though it was a moonless night, the city was still covered in lights so I felt better hiding my scars. Snapping on a choker necklace that Chichi gave me and a belt with a dagger and gun hidden inside, I climbed down the staircase, snatching a jacket off the wall hook, and walked out of the tower and into the bitter night.

o0o

Even in a place as crowded as New York, Circe had always been able to find good meeting places. Growing up in the City That Never Sleeps made her familiar with all the city's hiding places and secrets, places most people would be too scared to venture into. Then again, neither me nor Circe were like other people. Walking down the streets without fear of people seeing me was great relief for me, I didn't have to worrying about some nosy asshole recognizing me from Total Drama. That or a curious bystander seeing my thick stitchings and calling 911.

Temptations looked like every other trendy cafe in the area with modern furnishing, well lit and overpriced coffee and snacks. Though slightly gothic with it's paint job, it still gave that 'New York' feeling to it with people coming in and out, only a few staying to enjoy their drinks. Outside, were only three tables with the cafe's logo for anyone wanting to enjoy the breeze of the night. Circe was the only one siting out there.

Crossed legs and sipping coffee, Circe looked pretty content siting there in the dark streets of New York. Not that I blame her, her punk style looks and her glares could send anyone heading towards the opposite direction. Letting out a low whistle, I manage to get Circe attention; she immediately left her drink on the table to meet up with me.

"About time, Gwenie-Girl!" said Circe, hugging me, "Nice outfit, by the way."

Another thing I forgot to mention was that Circe is bisexual, and no, we're not together. Even though she did admit that she had a crush on me, she respects my decision that it would be better if she saw other people. Honestly, I don't having any problem with her sexuality, I'd just rather not go through another relationship that may not work in the end. That and her appearance.

Circe, like myself, is a loners due to her appearance. Auburn colored hair with red highlights, pale skin, dark eyes, multiple piercings and tattoos all over her body, she really was a rebel in her own sense. Yet despite all this, she was never really happy with how she looked for one simple and horrifying fact:

She looked just like Courtney.

For a moment, I thought that God was punishing me further or that, in some fucked up coincidence to meet another girl who could pass as Courtney's twin. We met in Central Park during one of my patrols. Apparently, Desdemona allowed her freakish imp children to run around the park, destroying statues and flowerbeds. Circe had been caught in the crossfire of my fight and almost got stabbed by those little freaks. Everywhere, these imps started crawling all over me like insects on a corpse. One even got a hold of my dagger and cut off my neck stitches, making Circe shriek in horror until I snapped the fucker's neck.

Only once I'd finished with reattaching my neck and burning the slaughtered bodies did Circe come out of her hiding place. She must have been pretty freaked out, so I started walking closer to her, trying to comfort her. And then I saw her face. I wanted to faint, to scream, even the world ending at the moment would have been better then that moment. I half expected for her to scream at me, call me a boyfriend stealer or pull out some kinda of PDA and call the authority.

But none of that happen, instead, Circe grabbed a fallen dagger that sat next to the tree she hid behind and chucked it at me; the aim was towards my head so I ducked. A sickening 'THUCK' and a squeal caused me to turn around in shock. A few inches where my head was, the dagger pierced the skull of an badly injured imp that had snuck up behind me and was now laying, dead.

"Hey," she said, "I'm Circe. Nice ass kicking!"

After that, we became friends.

Back to the present, Circe and I walked over to the table were her coffee was, along with a plate of cookies and crossiants laying there for consumption.

"Want some?" asked Circe, pushing the plate closer towards me.

"I don't eat, Circe," I answered.

"Again, didn't stop you before in the past," she replied, taking another gulp of her bitter drink, "Beside, any food you do eat will just become energy for you. Eat!"

Giving in, I took a cookie and started munching on it. In spite of her looks, I truly did adore Circe. She was muy first true friend in my afterlife, my protégé, and the sister I've always wanted. She understood the bitterness, the anger I possessed, and accepted it. She even had the patience of not getting pissed or upset on days I would give her the cold shoulder nor when I randomly snap at her.

A positive note, to me at least, about Circe is that although she looks like Courtney, she is a complete opposite of her. Circe loathed our system's corrupted government; the politics, the laws, the government officials and all the social order crap, just everything about it made Circe blood boil which is pretty ironic since she is a politician's kid. Riots are her thing, started fires in CEO offices, breaking and entering in laboratory, setting free all the animals; she never really hurts anyone, more likely she's a nuisance to authorities then a threat. But she had a good heart and I welcomed that.

"Hey, Gwen," said Circe, placing her coffee on the table, "I saw the news this afternoon. After the murders at the museum. I'm guessing that Little Miss Mona-Bitch's handiwork, huh?

"You are correct," I stated in my monotone voice, picking up another cookie and taking small bites. Nope, still can't taste anything. Really sucks being undead, can't taste anything, not sweet chocolate or bitter almonds, I can't even remember what some of the food taste like after death. Chichi told me that even if I did or didn't eat anything, I wouldn't gain any weight, so there's a plus side. Still sucks, though.

Wiping the crumbs off my fingers, I continued with my anecdote, "She didn't really do anything, just lectured me and sent her little imps to do her dirty work. That's pretty much all she's been doing for the past few months. Desdemona is smarter and stronger then I we give her credit for, even if she doesn't show it. It's almost as if she's not trying anymore. Desdemona used to attack me full force with the intent to destroy my body and drag my soul to Hell, but now...it's like killing me doesn't matter anymore."

"Should we consider this a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked.

I sighed, "I don't know. She keeps telling me to remember, but I have no clue what the hell I'm suppose to remember."

"Did'ja ask Chichi?" Circe sneered at my watcher's name.

"Chichi won't tell me anything, just avoids the question. Desdemona keeps telling me that we used to be friends, but I don't remember anybody like her," stated Gwen, "She tells me that in time, my memories will surface, my past will emerge and the reason for my death will come to light.' Pfft! Like any of that makes sense to me."

Circe laughed a bit, "Why is it that your life seems like some sort of horror/mystery novel while mine is just a boring high school drama?

I placed my elbows on the table and my chin rested in my hands, "Yeah. To think that almost three years ago, I was just a normal teenage girl, breaking up with Trent, losing my friends to fame, finding out my boyfriend was cheating on me...now look at me. I'm a walking corpse slaughtering demons and sinners under the orders of one of the most powerful forces in the universe. Sad part is I think this life is much easier then my other, I don't have to get emotionally attacted to much."

"'Cept your friends and caretakers," reminded Circe, "But we know how to take care of ourselves."

"I'm never going to rest in peace, am I?" asked Gwen, "I'm just going to be killing demon after demon until all this, whatever it is, is over. When will my job be complete? Why me?"

"Come on, Gwenie-Girl, don't get all philosophical on me," replied Circe, putting her drink down, "I'm not sure what the reason they choose you for this job, but it must have been a good one. Your special, Gwen, and I know you don't believe that, but you are. Don't you realize how many people you've saved, me included. Most people, when given the chance, would never be able to stomach the things you've done; they wouldn't be as selfless to give up their lives for the sake of others. You're a wonderful person, you've done mistakes, just like everyone else, that only makes you human."

"Thanks for the support," smiled Gwen, "But I'm still not going on a date with you."

"Wasn't really trying to, but that ain't mean I'm gonna stop," smirked Circe, tossing the last bit of her cookie in her mouth.

We both ended up laughing, Ci could act so serious yet her true motives were just so funny. Circe leaned back and went back to finishing off her drinks and eating the last bits of food of the plate, I just gave up on eating.

"I should be getting back..." I murmured, looking at the clock in the brightly lit cafe.

"Now? It's only been fifteen minutes!" exclaimed Circe, getting up, "Let's go to a club!"

"What? Seriously, Ci?"

"Come on! It will be fun! I know this great club in Downtown Brooklyn."

"That's a half an hour driver," I replied, "Pass the Manhattan Bridge and everything! Why go there tonight?"

"Why not? I wanna get total wasted and see the looks on guys faces when they slip a date rape drug in your drink and it doesn't effect you. Come on, Gwen! Please!"

Gwen huffed in defeat as Circe unleash her 'cute face' on her, "Fine. Beside, I can't really leave you alone. God, knows what will happen if I'm not there."

She cheered and hopped out of her chair, taking her jacket and purse from beneath the table. Ci then dragged me towards the street where she called for a taxi using her phone, yelling in both English and Spanish to the operator. The road was pretty deserted, save for a few parked cars out on the streets and lights from the apartments; it was a rare sight for New York to be quiet in _any_ part of the state, I'd like those sights.

After a while, a familiar yellow cab stop in front of us, an elderly man sat behind the wheel. He was polite and greeted us warmly, a nice change from the creepy drivers that I've met over the years. Circe began giving direction to a adult bar in the uptown district, pointing out various avenues and streets to go through to get there.

We both leaned back when he started driving the cab, Circe played with her phone while I just stared out the window, watching the buildings. The driver, thankfully, took the long but desolated parts of town, that ways there would be less traffic and we would go unnoticed by people.

The lull of the more busier streets getting further and further away from us almost pulled me into dreamland. That was until the cab gave a large lurch foward. The driver honking the horn loudly as Circe and I banged my head against the glass of the taxi. Circe yelled out in pain, rubbing her head in an attempt to rid herself of her horrible headache. I looked up and saw a boy, not older then Circe or my age, just standing in the middle of the road, facing straight at us. He wasn't moving, didn't say anything, just blocking the taxi from moving.

"BOY! What on Earth are ya doing?" yelled the driver, his head poking out of the window, "Move, boy!"

The boy didn't acknowledge what the driver was saying, he just continue staring into the car and straight at me. Then I remembered the lesson on demons I read the day before; grabbing Circe by the arm, I pushed us onto the ground just as an elongated arm smashed though the windshield and the protective glass. Bits of shattered glass showered down our backs, my ears still ringing from Circe's screams. Looking up, the elongated arm slowly retreated from the car; the boy out on the street smirked as he retracted his arm, completely morphing into his demonic form.

"SHIT!" I hissed.

"What the fuck is that? yelled Circe, climbing out the wretched car, creeping up to the unconscious driver leaning over the steering wheel.

My eyes were trained at the created. An araneis. A shapeshifters that takes the appearance of adolescents and children in order to trap it's prey, leading them into a false sense of power of them. Legs and arms grew eight feet long, his body twisted itself upside down, the eyes turn pure black and large fangs grew from his deformed mouth, vemon flowing inside.

"Circe! Get out of the way!"

Both me and Circe, carrying the driver, jumped away from the car as the araneis landed on the hood of the cab, smashing the thing into the ground. The thing didn't care about Circe or the driver, he's eyes were completely glued onto me, hissing at me with every move I made. Screeching, the monster started swiping at me, I had to backflip to dodge them. Each attack cause smalled potholes in the concrete.

I yanked out my gun from my belt and took aim at it's head. Letting out two shots, I had missed his head on both, one hit a sign nearby, the other only grazed it's side. The araneis hissed before shooting a thick glob of web at me, engulfing my right arm to the gun. My finger pulled the trigger, however the web jammed the machine, making it useless.

"Fuck!" I screamed, tossing the thing to the ground and dodging another swipe.

"HEY! ASSFACE!"

A shot rang out along with a hiss of pain from the demon. Looking over it's sholder, I saw Circe, the driver a laying back still knocked out on some steps, pointing her own gun at the creature's head, managing to hit one of it's eyes. Did she had that thing early? Either way, she manage to hits the creature, somewhat blinding it. Unfortunate, the araneis was still accurate with it swing when it hit Circe, knocking her off her feet. I watched her body skid down a couple feet.

"CI!"

"I'm cool!" she yelled back, nursing her bloody knee, "Fucking hell, this hurts!"

My hand reached for my dagger, the only other weapon I had with me in my belt. I suddenly regret bring the gun with me, guns were noisy and they brought unwanted attention. No doubt my shots should have alerted someone to call 911. Blades, though took longer to properly kill, are silent and more swift to match my speed. Plus, it's difficult to trace a dagger when there is no serial number, no finger prints, and only dead skin cells from a missing person from another country.

While it was still distracted, I ran up and slashed my dagger into it's legs, sinking the metal into it's flesh, ripping it off. Blood splattered on my face, bits of skin hit my leg, the creature started shrieking in pain. It started smashing his clawed hands at me, nails dug right through the streets, but I manage to sidestep the attack by inches. The demon was getting impatience, reckless, blinded by anger, I had to kill this fucker soon or else there would be some mass destruction and most likely injuries.

More shots were aimed at the araneis, hitting both his legs, one began buckling under the pain. Tired of interference from a human, the araneis shot a think web at Circe, sticking her to the pavement. Screaming profanities at the beast, the punk girl struggled to free herself from the goo all the while I kept dodging web shots aimed at me.

"You okay, Circe?" I asked.

"When I get out of here, I'm putting that bastard's head on my mantelpiece," screamed Circe.

She's okay, mentally at least, though she'll have to ice her wound for a while. Another annoying swipe was aimed at me, but this one made contact, knocking into a nearby lightpost. I got up and cracked by back, straighting my spine. The araneis started charging at me and, at the last second, I jumped onto of it's back as it cracked it's head on the pole. Grabbing a fistfull of the ripped T-shirt it still had on, I hung on as it tried to throw me off; I wonder if this is want bull riders feel like.

Gripping the handle, I jammed the dagger into it's back; letting go of the fabric, I gracefully slid off the araneis' back, dragging the knife down it's back, exposing the innards. As if my ears weren't hurting enough, the beast started screeching at the top of it's lungs, probably silencing all of New York with it's wail. Blood and organs fell out of the wound and splatter all over the streets and onto the buildings, creating a grotesque painting all over the place.

Wiping the blood from my eyes, I dodged yet another swipe from the monster, skitting a few feet away. The monster was in extreme pain from the gashes and bullet wounds, but it was subborn and refused to died, which pissed me off even more. Running towards him, I slid under his swing this time and thrusted my dagger upward, digging the blade into the elbow bone. Yanking it out, I rolled before it dug it's injuried elbow into me. Partally blind and stupid, yet it's still standing.

Climbing onto it's back as it nursed it new wound, I shoved my hand down it's back wound and started digging into his flesh. Honestly, I played way too many Mortal Kombat videos, but I found it's spine and yanked it upward, trying to severe it. The araneis kept wailing, thrashing to and fro in pain and lifted one of his arms to hit me. However, his arm was blown apart, Circe had finally freed herself from her goopy prison.

With one last buckle, the thing toss me off it's back and onto the street pavement. Circe ran towards me, asking me if I was okay. I told her I was fine but I doubt she hear me over the loud wailing from the pathetic thing started limping away, it's body shrinking back into his teenage disguised and disappearing into an alleyway, leaving me, Circe and the still knocked out driver alone. Circe, however, wasn't having any of that.

"Hey! Get your fat ass back here, motherfucker!" screamed Circe, running after the demon.

"Circe! Don't! Get back here!"

Sadly, she couldn't hear me over the wailing of the araneis as she chased after it. Despite me and Chichi training her, she still has tendency to lose her cool when kill demons. Not that I don't blame her, I done it too. Besides, she was still a human and demons, no matter how weak the creature was, could easily kill her.

In the distance, police sirens started getting closer to the crash site while Circe was getting farther away from it, still running after the demonic being. Getting up, I checked to see the driver, still knocked out but breathing and then ran after my gun-toting friend. I was pretty surprised that I lost them both quickly despite the unnatural speed I possess.

After running for five minutes, I completely loss Circe's and araneis' trail and I was freaking out! God damn it! How does someone lose track of a wailing injured teen-demon and cursing, gun waving punk girl? Every corner I turned was either a entrance into a busy street or a dead end, yet there was no sign of them going wither way. Turning into another corner, I found myself into one of the more busted down ghettos of Brooklyn.

Kicking out a few broken beer bottles out of the way, I walked down the creepy empty lot until I was in front of a boarded up abandon warehouse. Windows were busted open or cracked, gang signs and profanity were graffitied across its outter walls, and even the front entrance didn't even lock. Pushing open the metal door, I peered inside the building. Everything was trashed: busted crates, broken glass, toppled over oil cans and years worth of dust floated around the air.

In the ground, I spied the telltale indentation of heel marks in the soft ground, drops of blood laid next to each dent. Following them with my eyes, the steps leaded towards the center of the warehouse, yet there was no Circe or anyother trail. It was almost as is the person walking inside disappeared in thin air. Jogging up to the last step, I kneeled down to examine the blood, still wet yet completely clean. If this was Circe's blood, there would be dirty from the pavement and pieces of skin.

"Circe," I called out, "Are you here? Circe!"

No response. Sigh, I picked myself up and dusted off the dirty from my knees. I took a long look around the place; beside the footsteps, it looked like no one had come around the place for many, many years. Kinda reminded me of some haunted place I've seen in thosc cheesy documentaries on the History Channel. But no time for that, I've got to find Ci...

"_Bitch_."

"Wha.." I turned around and scanned the room; there was no one hear, "Hello?"

"_Hehehe..._"

My hand reached for my dagger in my belt; gripping the hilt of the weapon, I prepare to attacking who or whatever was in this room. But instead of seeing a demon or spirit, I ended up clutching my ears as an horrifying shrieking screaming exploded throughout the entire building. Too loud! Too frickin' loud! The shrieking sounded like that of twelve banshees using a loudspeaker, it just chilled me to the bone and for the first time in a long time I felt the one emotion I hated: fear. Not only that, but I could register pain, mental shattering, bone breaking pain!

The voice got loudier, the emotion got angier and I wondering how no one outside had called the police yet. Everything was garbled, my brain couldn't understand want the voices, whatever they were, were saying or in what language they were saying it in. But then the words started getting clearer, but it wasn't one voice anymore, it was multiple. And I reconized them.

_ "Freak!"_

_ "Why can't you just disappear?"_

_ "Traitor!"_

_ "You're nothing!"_

_ "I trusted you!"_

_ "How could you?"_

_ "Trash!"_

_ "I hope you burn in hell, witch!"_

I kept clutching me ears, the voices, I can't stand them! All were dangerously familiar, I wanted to ignore them but they were just too loud, too pissed, too painful. My skin started getting hot, I'm dead, I shouldn't feel anything! I fell onto my knees and curled up into a ball, a pathetic way to escape the rising heat. The sounds of shattered glass and explosions rattled inside my head; this, along with the screaming, almost made me go deaf.

"_Oh my god! What did we do! She's dead! Gwen! Gwen_!"

"Gwenie-Girl! Gwenie-Girl!"

The voices stopped.

Unwrapping myself from my ball, I cautiously looked around the room. Still empty; no explosions, no fires, no insane heat, everything was as it was when I entired. In the distance, I could hear Circe calling out for me, using her nickname for me. My body return to it's numbing, unfeeling state, the pain was gone and I was like nothing ever happen.

_'I couldn't have just imagined it,'_ I though, _'Could I?'_

Shaking my head, I ran out of the warehouse, making sure there was distance from me and what ever haunted that place. Circe wasn't anywhere in sight yet I could still hear her voice, louder and more closer I can towards the alleyway. At the entrance, I could hear Circe voice clearly, however it wasn't next to me, behind or front. It was above. Looking up towards the fire escape of a nearby apartment, Circe was smiling down on me, sitting on the railing with one hand holding the railing for support while the other was waving around the decapitated head of the araneis.

"Check out my new trophy," she bragged, "Told you I'd put his head on my mantelpiece."

I sighed in relief, she was okay, "Great job, Ci. Definately an improvement from your last killing."

This time, she sighed, but in annoyance, "I told you, I had idea that the gun was faulty! But you gotta admit, to see that bullet ricocheting all over the walls then go through that imps head was awesome!"

"Yeah, until the neighbors began calling the cops and we had to spend an hour on a high speed car chase just to lose them," I replied in my normal monotone voice, "Not to mention that the car wasn't our."

"Calm down, GG," said Circe, jumping off the roof and into my arms, "The car belong to a drug dealer and that crack-head was locked up when we jacked it so I doubt he'll missed it."

I placed her on the ground as she took hold of the head, grabbing it's hair, and hoisted it over her shoulder, ignoring the blood seeping into her clothing. Glancing at the severed neck, I analyzed the cut and slash marks that Circe did on his neck. Slightly messy, uneven, some too deep, others not deep enough, either way, it took a multiple amounts of slashing to complete severed the head. But all in all, not a bad hit for still trainning amateur.

"An improvement," I stated, "But the cuts need work, it's too random, you need to increase your pressure on your blade. Try to target in on one point and home in on it. Makes for a cleaner and quicker kill."

"I can stop by on Saturday for target pratice if that's okay with you," she asked.

I nodded, "That's fine. Come on, let's go home. I don't think blood-stained clothes are nightclub attire."

o0o

I can honestly say that I'm pretty jealous of Circe's lifestyle. Her family was one of those high-class, wealthy and extremely powerful families of New York; their family mansion stood at the edge of Long Island and loomed over all the other homes with a intimidating shadow, sometimes scarying the crap out of the others. Circe would always invite me over, saying that it's always empty save for a few maids here and there and the occasional disappearing/reappearing butler.

By the time we got there, it was already passed midnight, the mansion was completely empty thus making it even freakier and more frighten then when it was filled with people. It was protected by a tall, cement and wire made fence with two entrance doors with the best high class security system money can buy. Pulling out a key card, Circe swiped the card in the key pad and open the double doors.

"I'll call you later," I said.

She smirked, "You better."

Giving me one last hug, Circe started jogging up the path, her new 'trophy' bouncing up and down her back with each step she took. The blood had long since drained from the head but that didn't mean skins and brain matter didn't stop from falling out. Though I doubt she even notice it, she was too proud of her new, more successful, kill.

Over the horizen, the sun started peeking through, signaling the end of the night and the beginning of the new day. Turning at my heels, I started running, not caring about my heels. Heels, sneakers, boots, they're all the same to me and they don't matter since death prevents pain from running with them on. The scenery flew past me like a movie on fastfoward, blurs of color and sound pierced my sight and hearing, I felt like I was flying and then I made it home in under ten minutes.

Entering the tower, I found that Chichi still hadn't return from wherever errand she was doing, leaving me alone in the tower. Kicking off my heels, tossing them to the side of the ground room, I started climbing up the stairs and into my room. However, when I took that first step inside, I felt like I was being watched. Pulling out my dagger, I slowly scanned the room, walking slowly, not making a sound. Everything looked untouched and all my stuff was were it was suppost to be, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

TAP TAP TAP

I quickly turned, dagger ready, towards the sound which came from a window. I then sighed in annoyance and opened it, letting the criminal inside. A raven. It was a beautiful bird with dark onxy feathers and even darker eyes. I watched it flew across my room before making itself comfortable on my nightstand then went back to staring at me. I shrugged my shoulder then stripped away my bloody clothings.

'_Wish I could go one week without coming back here soaked in blood_,' I thought, remembing all the outfits I stainned with that metallic-tasting crimson liquid.

I, once again, took another shower, though I kinda felt akward with the raven still staring at me, even with the door closed. Though I kept reminding myself that it was just a bird and nothing else, though something inside me was screaming to kill the pretty bird. Drying myself off, I still stole glances at the animal while changing into my pjs. As I slipped into the covers of my bed, the bird finally flew out the window and into the sky. Though for some reason, I could hear a deep toned voice chuckling and then I thought back to the voices at the warehouse.

'_Must be imaging things_,' I thought as I drifted away to yet another dreamless sleep, never noticing the raven flying back into the room continuing to stare at me.

o0o

(Unknown P.O.V.)

"Mom, dad, I'm home," called out Circe.

Silence.

The young girl sighed in disappointment as she toss her bag onto one of the chairs in the hallway. No one was ever home, not for Circe at least. Mother was probably at one of her meetings while her dad was busying with work. Life alone was bitter and sad for her, she couldn't even remember one memory of her parents being there for here, her childhood was filled with complete strangers: nannies, babysitters, bitchy tutors and other relatives, but none of her parents. Sometimes Circe wonder if they even knew they had a daughter.

'_They probably don't know anything about me_,' thought Circe, '_I don't even know why I bother calling out for them_.'

The Palace de Garcia, as her superficial aunt called it, is known as Long Island's most prized asset to New York's history of wealthy and influential families. The Garcias were the top dogs of their state, the family tree going back centuries, all the way back to the first pilgrim settlement and through the royal families of the Tutors and the Normandy. In short, Circe and her family were treated as royalty by the state.

And, oh, how she HATED it! Being treated as if she was glass, so delicate, like she couldn't do anything for herself less she fall apart. People always babied her, gave whatever she asked, even the most stupid things like a limo painted black and white with gold rims on the wheel for her tenth birthday when she couldn't even fuckin' driver! And they showered her with unending affection. But even as a child, she knew that all these people wanted from her was money and fame.

Families who were friends with the Garcias had powerful connections, instant fame and were just as gossiped about as her family was and that wasn't very ofte;, the Garcias are very picky about who they associated with. Even some of the media's most popular celebrities had difficulty trying to connect with her family, much less be around them. That's why all of Circe's classmates tried to be her 'friends,' to check out her home, her stuff and her money. It was only when she turn sixteen that she finally snapped.

She dyed her formally Vegas gold painted room black, stored all her fancy-smancy furnishing down in the basement and replaced everything with dark, gore and creepy goth stuff. She didn't allow any of the bastard that dare call them her 'friends' near her, much less her house, gave away her expensive clothing to GoodWill, started dressing in bloody red corset and short skirts, and developed a vile attitude. Although the remodeling of her personality did make her feel a bit happier, it still didn't make up for the empty void in her heart.

One September night, Circe had gotten so fed up, that she stormed out the house, threatening and cursing anyone if they come and find her. Once again, her parents cancelled another family dinner, the sixty-seventh dinner they cancelled on her. Every single time she made plans for their parents to get together, it was always 'I'm too busy' or 'Something came up at work,' excuse after excuse. Had it not been for the portraits and pictures in the hallways, Circe might not even know _what_ her parents looked like! They just were never there for her.

Central Park is just as beautiful at night as it was in the day, at least to Circe. The flowers, statues, fountains and lakes shone underneath the moonlight, surronding them in an errie glow. Finding a nearby beach, the punk girl lean down and started taking deep breath before letting herself fall into sobs. It wasn't fair, why couldn't her parents just be there for her just once? She didn't give one damn about being rich, it was worthless to her; money didn't love her or cared for her, and aparrently, neither did her parents.

After crying for a good hour, Circe dried her tears and started heading towards the exit. That's when the imps attack. At first, she confused them for rabid squirrels or some type of lizards until they came closer and saw that they weren't anything of this Earth. Fearing her life, she started running, those _things_ closing behind her, gurggling and talking in gibberish yet their tones were in demented happiness. Circe didn't want to die and she started praying for an angel to come a save her.

And then Gwen showed up and saved her.

Gwen was the only one who truly cared for her. The undead goth had been so sweet and kind to her, not to mention beautiful. Yes, Circe is bisexual, having a total of six ex-boyfriends and two-ex girlfriends. It wasn't as if she was untolerable in a relationship, the problem was finding someone who understood her and her problems as well as she did. Most guys her age only cared about getting into her skirt and the girls she knew only blabbed on and on about guys, prom nights and how to lose eight pounds in two days. That and they were in love with Circe's money, not her.

But Gwen wasn't like that; money meant nothing to her and Circe's wealthy didn't change her opinion about cared about Circe, she really did and Circe was estatic to finally have a friend. A real friend. Someone who didn't use her for her money or her family's connections, no, Gwen wanted to be her friends because she liked her and she was special, not for her family but for herself. To Circe, it felt as if God was finally granting all her wishes. Even if they weren't dating, Gwen still made Circe felt the one emotion she craved for her whole life:

Love.

Traveling down the entrance's hallway, Circe climbed up the gold painted grand staircase, up towards the second floor, and turned left to another lengthy hallway. Acrylic portraits of her parents and her ancestors hung on the walls, their dark eyes staring down on her, tiny tables that held fragile vases, lamps and a phone also decorated the brightly lit gold and red hallway as well as the old victorian-styled grandfather clock. Everything was fashionable decorated except for the dark painted purple door that horribly clashed with the color scheme.

Opening said purple door, she entered the dark sanctuary that was her beloved room. Queen size gothic bed dominated the entire bedroom, her vanity rest at the opposite end of the wall, littered with black perfume bottles, makeup containers and various other girl things. She had tiny chinese paper lanterns hung up on her ceiling, two closets and a dresser in between them, a modern styled bathroom and a large balcony that looked over the front entrance and beyond, into the roads and lands that led to the other mansions on the island.

Stripping off her clothings, Circe took a quick shower to scrub awat the blood and dirt from battle, dress her wounds then changed into her lacy black and red, floor length nightgown. She release her hair from its ponytailed bondage and jumped onto her bed, snugging into the soft comforter. The room was silent as she pulled a pack of matches from her nightstand and lit the vanilla scented candles on said nightstand, filling the air will the sweet aroma.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Acting on impulse from all of her training, she pulled a gun hidden under her pillow and pointed at the door, locked and loaded, ready to shoot. Her eyes widen at the intruder. She began cursed herself for being so stupid and thanked God that she didn't pull the trigger. Circe shoved the gun back under her pillow and crawled towards the edge of her bed and looked closely at her 'intruder.'

Her pet fox.

"Hey Mr. Muffin," cooed Circe to her kit, scooping him up from the floor and placing him onto her lap, "Did you have a good day?"

"Yip," replied the baby fox, rubbing his face into Circe's stomach.

"I had a good day, too," said Circe, "I got to see Gwen again and we got to kill a demon. She looked so beautiful when she kills, Mr. Muffin."

The tiny fox continue rubbing up against his mistress, mewing so sweetly. Circe patted Mr. Muffin on the head before crawling under the covers and placing her head on her feather-stuffed pillow. Her fox cub followed close behind, going under the covers as well and popping out on the other side. , as he was named, hopped on one of the many pillows Circe's bed had and made himself comfortable.

Circe watched as her fox, clawed at the pillow and then curled up into a ball and fell instantly to sleep. His owner smiled and lifted her pillow to reveil, not just her gun, but a small pitcure. Centered in the photo was of her and Gwen, decked out in clubbing dresses, posing in the middle of a rave that she and Gwen snucked out to go to almost three months ago. That was a good day for her, mostly cause she had Gwen to herself all night .

The grandfather clock in the hallway started to chime, signalling 1 a.m. in the morning. Deciding that school was no longer an option due to her injuries, Circe made a mental note to forge a doctor's note for next week when she got back. Blowing out the candles and resting her head on her pillow, Circe closed her amber eyes and began taking in the aroma of vanilla from the melted wax.

"Night ," yawned Circe, "Night Gwenie-Girl, sweet dreams."

o0o

Deep inside the crevasses of Hell, a familiar skull dressed female was walking across the control room of her palace. In front of her were hundreds upon hundreds of camera, all of them focus on certain specific person, place, event or time period. Half of those camera were mainly focused on young Gwendolyn's life: her birth, her childhood, her family, her birthdays, her past lovers, her time on that acursive television show and, the most damning of them all, her death which was being replayed over and over on the main screen.

Then suddenly, the screen turned to static then came back on, but instead of replaying Gwen's death, it showed the inside of Gwen's tower room with Gwen just arriving. The screen showed the undead goth begin stripping off her clothing until she was in her bra and panties then she discarded them as well. Her nude body was then plastered all over the screens.

"What are you doing," asked Desdemona in an annoying tone of voice.

"Enjoying the show."

The young demon women sighed, "Your disguisting, you do realize that. Your lustful nature, your envious plans and your over-all vanity is such an atrosity that I don't even believe I can properly describe it."

"Lighten up, Moni. I'm just looking, I'm not hurting her. Yet anyway. The things I could do to her...the damage I can commit..."

"Ugh! Your disgusting!" she exclaimed, storming out of the room, "And to use our pet ravens's sight as a camera, vile!"

"Now, now, Desdemona," whispered the voice, though his tone was enough to frighten the demon girl, "There's no need to be a bitch."

"I...a...apologize," she studdered, trying to even her breath.

Before she opened the door, she turned back at the half-Abaddon demonic male resting comfortable on a velvet chair in front of the screens. His eyes glued to the screen as he watched Gwendolyn walk across the room in all her naked, blood-stained glory. Poor thing probably didn't know she was being watched. In his hand was a glass cup that held a large amout of red liquid. Blood.

"She will be mine," he answered, taking a sip of his drink, "I always get what I want."

"So you do," she whispered, "My dear brother."

**o0o**

**yep, Desdemona has a brother, watch out!**

**doppelganger:**

**- a ghostly double of a living person that haunts its living counterpart**

**I know that this is what a doppelganger is but there are also human doppelgangers as well, ya know 'look-a-likes.' However Circe and Courtney are almost exactly alike, down to their body measurements and everything. The only difference is their personalities.**

**Originally, Circe wasn't suppose to be bisexual but I got inspired by Jason Kreuger Myers's Total Alternate Island characters, Sara and Laura, and by one of my friends who is bisexual. Plus, there are a lot of yuri pairing between females here and it's getting really popular.**

**Also, I really like the friendship Gwen and Courtney had during TDWT (even though I dislike the CIT, sorry Courtney fans) so I made Circe to sorta replace that friendship. I'm not sure if I'm going make they get together, I'll let you guys decide that, but for now, Circe is just Gwen's friend and protégé. Also, next chapter there will be more hints about Gwen's past and her death as well as a cameo from a former Total Drama contestant you're all familiar with.**

**NEXT: Chapter 4 - Curiouser And Curiouser**

**Please Read & Review! I want to hear your thoughts on this so far. Love it. Hate it. What to change something? Tell me!**

**EDIT: Hi guys, hope the rewrite was more to your liking :) and it was beta read by different people so hopefully there are no grammer errors. I'm still wokring on my comic and I hope to get something done during this summer. Wish me the luck, oh! And R&R for this new, rewritten, chapter, please.**


	5. Curiouser And Curiouser

**Disclaimer: I don't own Total Drama and I never will**

**I'm late! I'm late! For a very important update! I know and I'm extremely sorry about that. Since I was going through my last year of high school and are now going to college, I've just been swamped with stuff, but now I finally gotten to upload a new chapter and I will hope you guys will forgive me. Also, I was having this chapter be beta read so as to avoid any future spelling errors or grammar errors.**

**In this chapter, you will meet one of the Seven Deadly Sins (character profile will be on deviantart website) as well as three more friends of Gwen's friends/demon-killing partners and a surprise cameo of one of the Total Drama contestants. I thank all my fellow fans and watchers for your patience and hope you are pleased with this chapter.**

**Warning: Death, crude language, violence and a character's huge ego's**

**o0o**

**Chapter 4:**

**Curiouser And Curiouser**

**o0o**

Time heals all wounds, that's what everyone keeps telling her for the past three years. Yet the pain from losing her daughter was as fresh as they day she went missing. Helena Blackwood tried so hard to deal with the pain of not knowing where Gwen was, of what could have happen to her. So many awful and vile thoughts went through her mind as she conjured up what could have happen to her, but there was no proof, no evidence; the officers told her it was as if her daughter had just got up and walked away.

'_What did I do to deserve this_,' though Helen. She tried to be a good mother even after her husband's death, but it was difficult. She has become a single parent, working two jobs, raising two teenagers, but she tried as best as she could to support the three of them while still being there for her children. Her children were all she had left of her husband, Travis, the love of her life, god rest his soul.

Gwen had been her first born as well as her only daughter; despite her gothic appearance, Gwen was a very wonderful girl, caring and helpful, always eager to help Helena around the house. Much of her husband's personality transferred to Gwen: artistic, dark, mysterious, yet kind, generous and helpful. Though she didn't have that many friends, she wasn't a gloomy girl and she never suicidal, at least Helen never thought she was. And when Kevin, her son, was born, Gwen became a big sister, teaching and protecting him as best she could.

Then she went and gone on that damnable TV show! Now Helen wasn't one to judge but she begged her daughter not to go; whether it was fear of her getting hurt, being disappointed about not winning, or she plainly didn't want her daughter to leave, she fought with her for two weeks before the cab came to pick her up. Gwen continuously reassured her that she would be fine and that the prize money would go for her college education, Helen was proud to have raised such a responsible daughter.

Now due to her job, she could never really _watch_ the show and her friends weren't into reality shows either, but she'll hear all about it once her daughter came home. Then the letter came about another season. Helen was devastated but she allowed it when she heard this might be another chance for Gwen to win; after all, she was the runner up for the Island. Then a third season reared its ugly head and the curly haired woman was determined to say no to this, but apparently the fine print prevented it. God, how she hated the fine print!

When she learned that the contestant would be return, Gwen's mother was ecstatic! She started planning a small 'Welcome Back' party with her, Kevin and Gwen's goth friends, but she had to wait for Gwen to call to tell when she was coming home. So she waited. And waited. And waited some more. She waited for about a week when she finally decided to call Chris McLean. And all hell broke loose.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN SHE DISAPPEARED?" shrieked Helen.

Apparently, during the night of the Total Drama Farewell party, Gwen has disappeared from the hotel they were all stay at. Through the security camera, the goth girl had left her suite, all dressed up, and walked out of the hotel, never telling anyone where she was going or what she was doing. The Canadian police tried to look for her, due to her reality television stardom, yet they failed to locate even the slightest trace of her outside the hotel.

The world of Helen's started crumpling down; her daughter, her sweet and beautiful daughter, had gone missing and no one knew where she was. What's worse is that no one had even bothered to contact her! For days, Helen waited by the phone, hoping that her daughter would call her and tell her she left the hotel for another or she was staying at friends house or, heck, she could have just say that she walked to another city and needed someone to come get her. Anything! Anything at all, she just wanted to hear her daughter's voice again.

But nothing came.

Days turned to weeks then months and finally three years passed with absolutely no leads to her daughter's whereabouts and the case was stored away in the cold case files. Although many of Gwen's fans send her letters and cards to try to cheer her up and hopefully keep the case alive, it sadly didn't work. Birthdays, holidays, and New Years all went by, but the two remaining Blackwoods celebrated with less enthusiasm then before.

And now here she was, the mother of tw...one, sitting on her couch as she flipped through the pages of her family's photo album. Helen started at the photo ever since her son left for school early that day, not caring that hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch and hadn't even prepared dinner. The photos of her daughter haunted her the most, Gwen had been so happy in these pictures, so alive, yet they were only images. What did she go wrong?

"Mom," turning her to her right, Helena spotted her now sixteen year old son, Kevin staring back at her.

Helen immediately smiled, hiding the photo album underneath one of the couch's pillows, "Oh, hi honey! I didn't hear you coming in. How was school today?"

Kevin was no fool; he knew what his mother had been doing. Walked up to his mother, the teen boy reached underneath the pillow and yanked out the album, flipping it open to the page where his mother left on. Staring back at him was a photo of his beloved sister, her eyes filled with happiness, laughing at the camera and posing in front of her room. Looking down on her mother, he sighed as her smiled seemed to flatten down.

"...mom, don't do this to yourself," pleaded Kevin.

"Her birthday's next month," said Helen, blankly staring out of her window, "She would have turn nineteen. She should been in college now. She wanted to be an artist and have a gallery..."

"MOM! STOP!" cried Kevin, shaking her, "Please don't do this to yourself. I know it's hard to move on, but you have to!"

"How can you say that!" cried Helen, "How can you move on knowing that Gwen could be out there, alone, cold and scared. Maybe she has amnesia and she's wandering the streets without memories. Or she was sold to a human trafficking and she trying to break free!"

"Mom, it's been three years! There was never any reports about a kidnapping and as far as we know, Gwen could have just runaway."

"NO! Gwen isn't like that! She'd never runaway when she knows she has a loving family waiting for her to come back."

Kevin could see the tears rolling down his mother's face, her eyes become bloodshot and red; "Mom...what if what the police said was true. That the reason Gwen never came home was because she's..."

"NO! That's not true!" yelled Helen, "She's out there I know it! Why can't you just believe me?"

"Mom...Gwen's dead," replied Kevin, "Accept it and move on. Please."

"No...never...I'll never accept it."

Shaking his head in despair, Kevin releases his mother and headed towards his room, trying to get his emotion in check. Helen never left her spot, still staring at the window with her family's album at her feet. Never. She will never give up looking for her daughter. Somewhere out there, on this planet, her daughter is walking the streets and Helen will find her and drag her back home. Gwen can't be dead, she would never accept it.

"I know my daughter is out there," stated Helen, "I won't stop looking for her."

o0o

Anyone walking through here would have either lost their stomach or promptly fainted at the grisly sight. Blood practically covered the walls, oozing down to the already stained floorboards; flesh and torn muscle were tossed over the counter, hung from the light fixtures and stuck to the bottom of shoes. Despite most of the occupants of the bar being killed, their lifeless bodies shredded beyond recognition, you could still hear the _squish!_ and_ gurlp!_ sounds of boots stepping on the remains. It was like a scene from an R rated horror film, only this wasn't fiction and the blood wasn't colored corn syrup.

Severin was having the time of his psychotic life. Finally, Gwen had allowed him to go on a high-leveled mission with the intent of slaughtering all enemies in the vicinity, meaning every single motherfucker had to have their throat slit and their guts torn out of them. The emo currently was using the head of the gangleader as a soccer ball and kicking it back and forth against the sides of his bloody boots. Giggles came out of his mouth, which would have sounded cute had not been for the reason of his pleasure.

Not that far away, leaning against the not-so gory bar countertop, Kanani sneered in disgust with Severin and his psychotic nature. She'll never understand what gives men like him pleasure in killing; what possible joy do they get with offing others? Sure these gangbangers deserved it with all the trouble they were causing in the hood, but the way they died was too inhuman. This is why she left the slaughtering to Gwen, at least when she kills human, _real_ humans and not human-disguised demons, she kills them quickly. Unlike Sev, who would make them die slow and painfully.

"Having fun there, eh sicko," hissed Kanani; she never really liked Severin, "What's next? Laughing at funerals? Kicking puppies? Drowning babies? Huh?"

Sev stopped the head rolling with the heel of his boot before kicking the cranium, full force, into the wall. The head and skull immediately cracked open and all the contains splattered all over the wall in a circle splatter pattern. He laughed, "Well excuse me for helping New York get rid of some of its most shittest residents. If I remember correctly, didn't one of these asshole try to rape your sis?"

Kanani tighten her lip in a thin line, she didn't forget, just didn't want to relive it. She recalled how scared Little Jaylee was coming from her way to school, being 13 years old at the time she shouldn't have to face the evils of world, at least not yet, "...he's dead now."

"Oh come on now! Don't tell that you didn't _love _it," questioned Severin, standing only three inches away from the girl; he may have been a shorty and Kanani a giant, but that didn't stop him from getting in this girl's face. "You wanted to murder that son of a bitch for hurting your sis. He was the first guy you killed, right?"

Scoffing, Kanani pushed Severin away from her and started walking through the pile of human entrails, ignoring the squishing sounds it was making under her tennis shoes. The window was tinted, so people on the outside couldn't peek in, but the gangs on the inside could see who was trespassing on their grounds. With them dead, the window gave the teens inside that advantage; she saw no one outside, just her beat-up old minivan she got cheap at a used car lot parked on the grass.

"See something?" asked Severin.

"Nah," replied Kanani.

"No surprise," stated Severin, wiping the blood on his hands over the fabric of his jeans, "People probably know this is gangster territory and wouldn't dare come near here. Even if they heard screaming, most are too chicken to call 911."

"Come on, people aren't _that_ heartless! I'm sure...

"**AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH**!"

"Wha' the...?" trailed Kanani, staring at the ceiling, it too stained with blood.

Sev just laugh, "Looks like Gwen's havin' fun."

Kanani sneered at the emo, disgusted with his humor, "Gwen isn't like you, asshole. She takes no pleasure from killing."

"Ha! Sure she does! Ending these sinners' lives is what she lives for! It's the reason she was brought back from the death for: eliminating the filth from this planet."

"Then why hasn't she come for _you_, huh?" remarked Kanani, pushing Severin out of her way, stomping towards the exit, "I'll wait outside. Tell me when Gwen done so I can leave. Unlike you, I have a soul and don't want to play with dead men's blood."

Slamming the door behind her, the African American Beauty left the smirking emo in a slaughter house of a room, giggling under his breath. He never understood women like Kanani: hard-headed, independent women who want to do want was right yet still try to take pity on people and be loving and caring. Blah! Couldn't she understand that what they were doing was for the greater humanity?

Sev saw no problem in enjoying in their duties, being proud of cleaning up his city from all the assholes that wretch this place. He didn't know why Kanani was so uptight about it. These were out-of-control gangster that did anything and everything to people and didn't give two shits about who they hurt. They deserved to be put down like animals. No pity or grievance, just metal digging into their hearts, that's all Sev knew was right.

Gwen understood it had to be done, so why didn't Kanani, sure he knew that it was wrong to take another person's life, but which was better: the life of gangster, who would more likely rape and or kill innocent people, or the lives of all those innocent people that the gangster could have killed? It's a no brainer if you really care about the innocent. Most people would never have the guts, or the stomach, to do what he did, they were weak.

He loved the centuries back when people who killed thugs and rapist were heroes, now, in today's society, people who kill other people, despite that all of their victims were criminals, were looked down upon or ridiculed. This is why he loved Gwen, she could see right into people's souls, see who was truly good and who possessed a black heart. Severin was tired of hearing rapists and pedophiles getting off without a trial or a murderer let go for 'good behavior.' Crime went down drastically thanks to the 'Angel of Death', a nicknamed given by the media for Gwen's killings along with 'Slaughterhouse Queen.'

Even with the police trying to hunt down 'Angel', they were having a hard time ignoring the threats given by the public who started condoning the killing when they learn the crimes of her victims. No longer were people going to say that 'any killing is wrong,' nope, now with streets being safer and the nights being more pleasing to walk through, people were going to start saying that killings or criminals were needed. Religious fanatics will take back their words if they heard that Gwen killed under the orders of gods and families were already praising her for protecting children and slaying pedophiles. Heck, he overheard girls at his school worshiping her for taking down eight rapists in one night, something the cops could never do.

Gwen truly was an Angel of Death, a goddess and warrior in her own state; no one could ignore that if they met her. Blunt and to the point, no middle man to 'soften things', there was no point, everyone had to face reality. And Gwen was reality and punishment for the damned; no more wanting for accident, diseases or old age to kill these fuckers, nope, just the cold, sharp blade of a bitter goth with enough anger to slaughter crops of sinners.

Yeah, Sev loved the day he met Gwendolyn Morana Blackwood.

**o0o**

Had it not been for the face that she sensed the blood of over twenty innocence's on his soul, Gwen would have bestowed mercy upon the sniveling coward. But he hurt too many people, his selfish need for money and escaping death cause the killing of good mortals. There was no mercy for him. He had to die as brutally as the people he sold out. Gwen was sure to be as slow as possible when she sliced him in half.

Now he laid in two, cut vertically beginning from crotch to head, possible the worse way to be cut. Sliding the sword back in its sheath, Gwen wiped her face and hair, trying to erase the trace of blood as much as she could. Even after three years, she never got use to the splatter of blood on her face, probably because the blood came from sinners like this piece of shit that was in front of her.

"Ya done here, sweetheart?"

Gwen glanced back to spot Sev leaning on the doorway, his hands and legs soaked with blood, specks of brain matter entwine with his black locks, a sadistic smile on his face. He was like a gladiator, basking in his kills, the blood staining his body yet looking so strong and brave. To most, he would seem like a deranged serial killer, yet to the goth, he reminded her of a dark angel, solider of the Heaven who killed all those that defy the order. Sev might be blood crazy, but he knew how to kill.

"Yeah," stated Gwen, "Where's Kanani?"

Severin pointed his thumb behind him, "Outside. Couldn't handle the sight."

Most people wouldn't had they been in that bloodshed scene, Gwen understood Kanani's reason and held no ill will against her. She was, after all, only human. Allowing the undead girl to pass through, she and Sev made their way out of the crackhouse and into the ghetto. Kanani was a few feet away, waiting inside her car, arms crossed over the steering wheel with her head rested on top of them. Unlike Gwen and Sev, she was almost devoted of blood stains save for her shots and some spots on her shirt and jeans.

Knocking on the window, Kanani pressed the unlock button and let the two in. The three of them, well mostly Sev and Gwen, reeked of blood and death, so much so that Kanani had to open the window to air them out. Turning the keying in the ignition, the dark skinned girl started up her 'baby' and drove away from the lot. Nobody would come to the aid of a crackhouse unless it was the police and it was a bust, other than that, no one would come out to check it out. They were safe, for now.

"We're goin' by my house!" stated Kanani, "There ya'll gonna take a shower, change of clothes and then I'll drive you home."

"Okay, _mother_," snicker Sev, earning a smack in the back of the head by said girl.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." hissed Kanani, "I may hate your guts, but I won't risk my neck for you because you think it's funny to walk around covered in blood."

"What about your siblings?" asked Gwen.

"Now you don't have to worry about that sweetie," smiled Kanani; she might have hated killing and despise Severin, but she could never hate a nice girl like Gwen, "They're all still at school. That's the beauty with having eight brothers and sister all in kindergarten and middle school: home alone until 3:30pm."

The drive to Kanani's home was fairly quick; Gwen was only glad that her dark skinned friend moved out of the ghetto into a safer and low crime neighborhood in New York. The streets were no place for children and killings were frightened frequent. All the money that Gwen had gotten from her job went to pay for Kanani's new home, getting her back in school and helping her support her siblings. Gwen didn't need the money anyway, nor did her suppliers; after all: the dead have no use for finances.

No place in this world was safe, especially one littered with demons and sinners, but the Ridgewood neighborhood was fairly safe place. This is where Kanani's home located in, a lovely townhouse with a dark brown paintjob, five bedrooms and a backyard for the kids to play in. Not exactly high class but it was enough that nine siblings, minus their parents, could live in with some benefits.

"Alright..." began Kanani, poking her head out her window as she parked, "Most of the neighbors are at work and there are few cars in the streets. Wait for me to open my door then you just come running in."

"Jeezes, you act like we're escaping from a prison cell," said Sev.

"Well, ex-_cuse _me for not wanting my neighbors to ask why two people covered in blood are entering my home!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." motioned Sev, leaning back in his seat and waving his hand, "Just go unlock the door, Nani."

Growling under her breath, Kanani stomped out the car, slamming her door on her way out. Gwen rolled her eyes, this was all too déjà vu for her. Kanani and Severin acted almost like Courtney and Duncan which sickened her greatly to think about those two assholes. The only difference was that Kanani didn't need lawyers to fight her battles and Severin wasn't afraid to hit a girl with all his might. And, of course, they're arguments weren't to hide their 'love for each other.' They completely loathed each other and it was noted never to put these two in a room alone with any type of weapons. One would surly die.

After unlocking her door, Kanani motioned them to come in. Both the goth and emo quickly got out, close the door behind them and ran into Kanani's home. Thank god the blood had already dried, otherwise they would have left bloody footprints. Locking her car, the African girl closed the door behind her, putting the chain on and walked into the living room where Gwen and Sev were standing. The two reeked of death and decaying flesh, a smell they all, unfortunately, had gotten use to, but Kanani wasn't letting her siblings smell it.

"Now then," Kanani pointed towards the stairs, "Shower. Now. Both of you."

Sev looked at Gwen and made a swiping motion with his hands, "Ladies first."

Gwen lifted her arms in mock defeat, "Fine. Whatever."

Already familiar with the layout of the home, Gwen headed directly towards the main bathroom, the one in Kanani's room. Like Gwen's own bathroom, it was pretty spacious, not much decorated it except from some personal toiletries and some towels. The African girl was never much for decorating; she rather kept things plain and simple.

Stepping into the shower, clothing and all, Gwen turned on the showerhead, allowing a burst of cold water cover her. Better to remove any bloodstains before they set and cold water was the only way to remove them, thank god for her numbed skin. Once the train of bloody water cleaned up on the tub's floor, Gwen peeled away her outfit and tossed them into a corner. She grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing at her skin, stitched and all, removing any trace of her victim from her body.

'_The life of a killer_,' thought Gwen, watching her skin go from red to almost white, '_Ironic that I'm being cared for by angels while I mercilessly kill people, even though they do deserve to die and most of them are demons. Isn't one of the rules of the bible is 'Thou Shall Not Kill Thy Fellow Man' or something like that_?'

After washing both her hair and body from blood, Gwen wrapped a towel around her body and proceeded to dry herself off. Grabbing a comb from the sink, she started brush back her wet, dyed blonde hair from her face. Knocking on the door, Kanani came in with an oversized T-shirt and some shorts and handed them to the goth.

"I don't have any underwear for you to wear," said Kanani.

"I wasn't expecting you to have," replied Gwen, slipping on the outfit.

Kanani stared at Gwen's hair, "Need some scissors?"

Nodding, the two girls walked into the hallway and headed straight for the living room. Sev was already in the other shower Kanani didn't have to worry about him getting on her nerves. Snatching up some fabric shears she had, the dark skinned girl began snipping away the blonde hair, leaving the goth with her natural brownish black hair just below her ears.

Brushing off any hairs that got on her clothes, Gwen sat down on the couch and started channel surfing through Kanani's cable. Her own TV back home sucked since it only got the most basic channels; even though Circe offered to hook her up, she had to decline. The computer and cell phone she had gotten from her was enough, she didn't want anyone getting nosy about why a politician's kid was installing cable in a supposedly abandon bell tower.

The channel surfing stopped at the History Channel with reruns of shows telling how Armageddon will happen from the view points of different religions. Gwen didn't really pay attention to that stuff, why should she when she's dead and that the end of the world wasn't really going to happen unless she failed to stop Desdemona. Plus she learned all this stuff from lessons with Chichi. But unlike Gwen, Kanani was curious.

"Hey Gwen, I was wondering," started Kanani.

"If it's whether I will kick Sev out of the group or if I'll kill him, then no" replied Gwen in monotone, "Unless he starts going on a murderous rampage and killing innocences."

"NO! Well, I would like that...but it's not what I wanted to ask, which religion exist?" asked Kanani.

"Huh?"

"I mean I've seen Chichi and the Virtues and they're all white skinned angels that people see in Christian religion, even though most are depicted as male..."

"Well actually, angels are genderless," stated Gwen, "Chichi is neither male nor female since in their heaven there is no gender so this is no gender-bias in there world. People tend to think that all angels are male because they appear to look male when in reality they have no gender. The only way for an angel to become a certain gender is for them to choose one for themselves when they come down to Earth. If you ever read of the nephilim, you'll understand. Beside, not all angels are white; I've had the pleasure of meeting this sweet African angel once."

"So there's African angels too?" asked Kanani, "What about Hindu or the Japanese gods?"

"All religions exist," stated Gwen, her mind going back to all the lessons she learned from Chichi, "From the laws and histories of Heaven, to the existence of Nirvana and Tian, the Chinese Heaven, every religion that existed during the Beginning all do exist. Different sections of Heavenly worlds float above our heads that include the Christian and Catholic heaven along with the Japanese heaven and their gods and goddess, Hinduism's multiple planes above earth, the Olympians and even Jainism's _Deva Loka_ exist somewhere out there. The spiritual worlds are limitless so different heavens exist for different religions and their followers. I just follow the orders of the Christian and Catholic since they were the ones that ordered my resurrection."

"But what about the belief in how the earth was created?" questioned the African beauty, "Each religion has their own way of telling how Earth and the humans came to be? What about evolution or the Big Bang Theory, huh?"

"Ever hear of the multiverse theory? Well, that's basically want causes all the existence of multiple heavens. Like the theory states, there are hypothetical set of multiple possible universes, short version: there unlimited worlds that explore every possible outcomes in life and how life was created. Worlds where only one religion is practice and if religion never existed and worlds were certain people aren't born. Heck, there's even worlds were I don't exist or I'm never resurrected."

Kanani was in awe, "That's amazing. And here society is fighting about which religion is should be practice when in reality all religions exist; therefore no one has to abandon their belief for something else."

"Right. Whatever religion they practice is which heaven they will be going to, depending whether or not they've earned the right to enter. Unless your atheists, in which case you go to a different plane for that."

Gwen continued flickering through the channels of the television set before finally giving up and tossing the remote onto the other side of the couch. Kanani finished the laundry and handed Gwen her, now clean and dried, clothing just as Sev came down in his boxer shorts, his hair still wet from the shower.

"God damn it!" he cursed, smelling his arm, "Can't you buy soap that DOESN'T make me smell like a flower?"

"Hey, genius," scowled Kanani, "I didn't know you were coming here, sorry I didn't have the entire room to your specific. Maybe next time I'll just toss you butt naked into the streets!"

Gwen sighed as she tried to block out the fight that was happening next to her, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch.

**Note to self**: NEVER put Sev and Kanani on a mission together.

**o0o**

Pride itself is a disease, much like HIV: contagious and fatal. The same can say about vanity, an obsession with one's own outer appearance. '_A proud man is always looking down on things and people; and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you_' - C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity. Our world is run by sins, no man can deny that, and if they do, they're either lying or blinded by their own demons. The evil our founding father once tried to prevent now runs our systems; legal, illegal, morally, we nothing but puppets to our desires.

Morbid as it sounds and many do not wish to listen, people want to be blissfully ignorant of what's happening around them. Ignore the evil, the poverty, the hungry, the sick and injured; if they don't affect our lives, they mean nothing to us, though you'll never hear them saying it. Humans are cruel that way, sad to say but very true. Most don't admit it and most don't want to admit it, pride won't let them accept defeat and failure, they want to feed on ignorance and false sense of accomplishment and security. And when time is up, your pride swallows you whole and discards you like trash, the same way you treated everyone else.

Vanity, however, guarantees a worse and far more humiliating life and death for its victim. Obsessions with you outer appearance, how you look to yourself and, more importantly, to others. Are you ugly? Pretty? Fat? Skinny? Do you have muscles? Curves? Vanity, the devil's favorite sin, constantly fed and spoiled by our insecurities, giving it more power and strength upon our lives and you can never escape. When was the last time you, yourself, have been belittled for being unattractive? Why do we go out on a length to appease others when they call us ugly? Vanity wants us to. A siren call: be beautiful or suffer public humiliation.

This is why Lauren, the Vice of Pride and Vanity, adored her power so much.

Being breathtakingly stunning with a manipulative wit has always been Lauren's main choice of weapon in getting what she wanted. Much more effective than any silly old gun or knife. The personality of a typical rich bitch, spoiled to the core, not giving a damn who she had to step on to get what she wanted; men, women, children, elderly, animals, even her own sisters, she'll trick whoever whenever she wanted if it was in her best interest or she was just plain bored.

Humans were her favorite play things because they could be so easily tricked, look at all the serial killers and baby rapist they had roaming the streets. To Lauren, mortals were nothing but stupid guinea pigs waiting for her to mess with. She enjoyed watching their lives disintegrate before her eyes. Better then beating her sister, Envy, or sucking the beauty and pride out of the Hell-damned sinners, turning them into repulsive, wrinkly-skinned elderly beings. So much fun to watch them cry!

Yes, she was sick and evil, call her what you want, she didn't give a damn because you'll take it back when she charms you, tricks you, then crushes your ego beyond repair and laugh at your misfortunes until the day you die. Besides, she is the Vice of Pride and Vanity, petty words hardly could tear at her vile and cynical disposition, she thrives on anger, fear, and despair. Reference to her wickedness will be taken as complements; hardly anything will offend her because your weak against her and you know it. She's the Devil's favorite and she get what she wants.

Like now, walking down the runway in Milan; the critics, the photographers, the magazine editors and the rich clients, all eyes were on her, not the outfit, not the designer, on her, solely her. Attention is what Lauren seeks and craves, it what feeds her enormous egos, and attention is always what she gets, whether it was in Hell or on Earth, she always captures an audience.

Strutting back into the dressing room, the other model glared viciously at the vice, hoping their stares would destroy her, but Lauren just laughed it off. As if glares would ever break her, the amount of vanity that went through this room was strengthening her with each passing second. Stupid, foolish mortal women, their own jealousy and vanity would be their own downfall. Snapping her fingers, two dressers, whom were actually demons disguised as humans, came to Lauren's aid and removed her dress and jewelry and slipped on her much more beautiful and expensive dress.

Waving them off, the vice, patted down her dress, making sure it was perfect for her, she started heading towards the exit. No sense in staying in a room with girls whom were lower then you but also giving you jealous glares as well. As she took her first few steps, another model had the audacity to trip her, the vice of Vanity and Pride. Luckily for Lauren, as said vice, she knew how to fall with grace, but it still pissed her. This mortal had some balls to pull this shit on her.

"Oops!" sneered an overly tanned redhead, "Did I do that? So sorry."

Lauren stared turned pure ice, the room became that of a freezer. "Oh, it's quite alright," said Lauren, her voice was seductive yet frightening, the girl was going to regret it, "Not everyone can walk in heels. Not to mention, well...you know."

"E...excuse me?"

Lauren stood down at the girl, she was going to have fun and with an audience of forty models, dressers and makeup artist, "My dear, have you looked in a mirror lately? You skin is, above all, the most awful shade of skin tone I've ever had the horror of looking at. Far too much skin damage, slick with oil and dirt, and such a disgusting odor. Not to mention the dreadful dye job and extensions you got, or all the split end it comes with it. Did God make a mistake when he created you? And honestly, tell me the true, how many donuts did you sneak from the snack tray?

"It honestly surprises me that you can still fit into that dress," sneered Lauren, "Is it tight around the waist? Oink, oink, oink little piggy, your mouth is as loose as what's between your legs. Sleeping with the designer? I guess that's a good way to be part of a high class runway show like this, especially for such a lower class beginner such as yourself. But that certainly drops your 'class' status now does it? What would your boyfriend say, I mean, if a slut like you has a boyfriend. A sugar daddy probably. Here's a tip honey, to get ahead in this game, I suggest getting a trainer, a better hairstylist, a plastic surgeon to fix your mess of a face and for once in your life keep your legs close. But I guess you won't be able to do that last one now will you?"

"YOU BITCH!" she shrieked, lunging at Lauren.

Lauren sidestepped the girl and tripped her, just as she did to her. Only instead of gracefully falling onto the floor like Lauren did, she stumbled and fell face first onto the catering table. Other models cringed as they hear the clanking and shattering sound of plates and glass hitting the floor, all the food and drinks fell onto of the fallen model. The vice smiled seeing the blood spill from the cuts the girl received from the glass and the once gorgeous and expensive dress she had on was ruin beyond redemption.

"Oops, did I do that? So sorry," mocked Lauren.

Giving one last smirk, Lauren walked out of the room, letting the model like her own wounds. Unlike all the other models, whom still stood in their place instead of helping the poor fool get up, Lauren had her own _private_ dressing room, far away from everyone. For there was no way she was going to share a room with other models not as beautiful or blessed as she was. Once she arrived in her DR, she grabbed her bad and proceeded to leave the building, it was getting late and she really didn't care if the show was over or not, in her mind, the designer was lucky to even be here period.

Roads and streets were bare of life, like her chambers back in Hell, only she stood in the center. True, she was disappointed that no one was there to be mesmerized by her beauty, but no matter, it would be less trouble anyway. Instead of driving or taking a limo to her hotel, she decided to walk. Why, you ask, would someone so vain and egotistical do something as normal as walking? Lauren had her reasons and her reason was following closely behind her, unaware of the dangers of approaching a vice with no one around.

"You stupid bitch!" hissed the model, still wearing her ruined dress and smelled of wine and sweets, walking up to her until she was just inches from Lauren, "You'll pay for that! My agent will destroy you! You'll never work at any fashion show or model shoot ever! I swear that I'll make your life miserable..."

Grabbing the whiny bitch by the neck, Lauren hoisted her up into the air. The women started choking, clawing at Lauren's wrist at in attempt to free herself but to no avail. Smirking, the Vice opened her mouth forced the other women to open her mouth as well. A pinkish-red mist started flowing out of the mortal bitch's mouth and straight into Lauren's. As this happened, the women started aging; her flesh got saggy and pale, her hair turned grayish-white, her figure got skinnier and boney.

However, the exact opposite happened to Lauren; while her victim grew older and uglier, she became fair and lovelier. Her hair grew curlier and longer, her body had transformed into a gorgeous hourglass shape, eyes shone with lust, beauty and power, and lips turned as red as blood. Letting out a soft sigh, Lauren let go of the now aged women's neck and let her crumpled body fall onto the ground in pain.

Lauren had stolen her beauty.

'_Or whatever beauty she had left_' is what Lauren thought. Turning 180, Lauren casual strolled away from the aged model, now dead on the streets, her heels gracefully clacking on the cement. The dead girl would be found the next morning but she'll hardly be recognizable due to her sudden aged self. Hopefully she has ID on her.

Lauren concluded that the medical examiner would claim that her aged state would be due to drugs or stress or some shit like that and the death would be label an accident. They'll never find her fingerprints; they'll never find one shred of evidence of her being 10 ft within the body. The girl is dead and she would walk away even more beautiful than before.

Oh yes, for Lauren, it was _sooo_ good to be sinful.

**o0o**

Wall Street is the financial district of New York City, home of the New York Stock Exchange, big business and corrupted bank officials. Circe remembered coming here quite often during her childhood with her tutor, trying to educate her in New York's economics. But even as a child, the brunette remember how cruel and tainted these bankers and CEOs were, always wearing that evil smirk, walking around with thick pocket and dressed so neat and clean, so different from their struggling clientele, always arguing with the tellers.

Since she was a politician's kid, she was allow inside the offices as long as she was quiet and didn't bother anyone. Employees would talk during their breaks about business deals that their bosses made and how the contract would squeeze money out of their clients and put it in their pockets. Despite being so young, Circe could understand that whatever these CEOs did wasn't in the best interest of other people, but rather themselves.

That was the reason on why Circe had snuck into the Federal Reserve Bank's safe, stuffing large wads of money into multiple duffle bags. She made a mental note to thank Raven for temporarily distorting the security camera long enough for her to sneak pass guards and slip into the safe. Thank the many heavens above that Gwen befriended a highly intelligent super nerd with hacking skills.

Yank out her phone, the Punkish girl searched through her contacts until she found one titled 'Squirrel' and called; "Hey! Almost ready here! Ya in the air ducts or what."

A muffled groan was heard on the other end, "Yeah, I'm just 12 feet from you. And hey! You try crawling through eight stories worth of air ducts. It isn't as easy, nor as fun, as one thinks."

"Quit your whining," replied Circe, "This isn't fun for me either but someone's got to send a message. Beside, this will totally be worth it in the end."

Ending the call, Circe waited with the, now stuffed with cash, duffle bags until the air duct lit popped open, revealing a punkish looking boy with a shaved head and multiple piercings; "Toss up the bags and let's get a move on before the guards come in."

One by one, each bag came flying up at the opening and into the waiting arms of 'Squirrel', whom pushed the bags into the duct with him. Once the last bag had entered the ducts, Circe took a page from the movies and Gwen and run towards the wall. Digging the toe of her boot on the wall, jumped to the opposite wall, landed on the tips on her toes, bounced back on the other wall then back until she got higher and higher, finally grabbing the edge of the opening of the duct.

Lifting herself up, Circe slipped inside the duct with 'Squirrel' and the cashed filled bags. Oh, how she wish she could see the faces of the bank owners when they see the empty vault. This is want they get for keeping money from their clients and the citizens of New York, greedy motherfuckers.

"What are you? Jackie Chan?" questioned 'Squirrel', "Where did you learn those moves?"

Circe smiled, "Oh, just a friend of mine."

Moving pass the boy, Circe grabbed as many bags as she could carry through the rather spacious duct. Using her cell for both light and looking at the bank's blueprint as she navigated through the dark. After several minutes of bumping and hitting her head on the top of the duct, Circe finally found an opening and took the opportunity to kick it open, find a rope ladder dangling in midair.

Grabbing as much bags in her arms, the punk girl leaped forward and grabbed onto one of steps, clinging onto it as she dangled back and forth over darkness. Once it the swinging stop, she took a breath and started climbing upward where another opening, this one leading towards the roof. Pushing it open, Circe crawled onto the roof before motioning 'Squirrel' to follow her.

A warm and gentle breeze brushed against her hair and skin, warming her up. Walking to the edge, Circe took a peek and saw herself overlooking Wall Street, the people looking like ants from high above the building, going back and forth, some without a care in the world. To think that for a moment, this place seem so peaceful to live in, not realizing that demons live among us until she met Gwen.

"Hello! A little help here!"

Spinning around, she spotted her friend struggling to get up. Sighing, Circe went over to help him up, struggling to get both him and all the bags of money up with him. God, the boy was heavy! Either she needed to work out more or he needed to lose some weight. But ignoring that, Circe suddenly notices the absence of three people.

"Where's Raven and the others?"

"Here we are!"

Over by the rooftop entrance, Raven Webb, a cybergoth and another one of Gwen's best friends, came out along with two other punkish/gothic looking males, both staring at Raven's impressive 'chest assets.' Despite the two horny guys, they were doing their part by helping the cybergoth carry her supplies. After Raven started unpacking her stuff, Circe quickly and quietly slapped the two lust-dazed guys back into the real world had them help unpack the supplies.

Pulling out her laptop, Raven started working her magic on the security system, turning off certain cameras, freezes images and sending static to the screen. Handing each guy and even number of money bags, Circe motioned them to go to three of the four corners of the building while she stood guarding the exit.

"Ready?" asked Circe, taking out a few tiny smoking bombs and tossing them into the door before shutting it behind, hearing the cracks of them breaking.

"NOW!"

Pressing the 'insert' button, a short alarm rang out from on top of the building, catching the attention from all the people below them. On cue, the three guys and opened each bag and turned them upside down, allowing the cash flow out of the bag, the wind blowing them everywhere on the streets. Pretty soon, the entire atmosphere was filled with falling money.

The citizen started screaming in happiness, dropping all of their stuff and started reaching for the sky, hoping to grab the floating bills and to stuff in their pockets. Cars came to a screeching halt, the drivers and the passengers jumped out the vehicle to join the crowd of eager money catchers. Some even had the guts to jump onto the cars and bus to have better leverage over others.

After a few minutes, the bags were finally free of their contents and her stuffed into one another until it was just one bag. They quickly dragged themselves to the back of the building to opened the supply bags they help Raven bring up and pulled out black hoodies and threw them on, putting the hood on to cover their faces. With Circe, she heard the charging steps and coughing of security that was coming up to the roof. However, Circe had locked the door and was barely holding it back with her weight.

"Guys! Time to go!" hissed Circe.

"Fine!" said 'Squirrel', "Okay, now be careful guys case the rope is pretty unstable..."

"Just shut up and jump!" yelled Circe.

"Are you insane!" yelled one of the guys, "There is no way we can survive..."

He never finished as the guys were pushed into the opening by the girls. Raven, then Circe followed them over the edge, closing the hatch just before the rooftop door burst open with a cloud of smoke and some coughing, slightly blind security guards. The teens grabbed onto the ladder and quickly descended down into the darkness until they reach the bottom, which was the #7 elevator shaft, the elevator which was controlled by Raven had stop just underneath the fourth floor.

Yanking the rope until it snapped off, the guys, using their combined strength, opened the door, revealing an empty hallway. Pushing themselves inside, they quickly ran towards the back exit, making sure not no one, especially the guards, saw. The five breathed a sigh of relief when they exited the building and into the streets with all the happy, screaming citizens grabbing the still floating cash.

"You two are insane!"

Raven and Circe just laughed.

**o0o**

Guilt is something that can consume the human soul if the secret or crime is too much to bear. She felt like she was going insane each and every day, the memories flashing through her mind, reminding her of what she had done, or rather what she had failed to do. Although she begged for someone to help her, to stop the suffering, but it never came and she probably knew, deep down, that it never will.

Three years had pass and yet the plague of her guilt followed her, bringing with it a storm of nightmares, paranoia and insomnia. Sometimes the girl felt as if she was slowly losing her sanity and her parents would soon have to call the mental ward to take her away, perhaps that would have been better; medication can often erase memories but only temporary. Even if it was only for a minute, she would desire it just to have that minute of peace.

She could hear the other girl's screams, her cries for help every time she shut her eyes; crying, begging, laying on the floor in a pool of her own blood, her limbs slashed off yet she clinging for life, refusing to die. An intense heat surround them both, the odor of burning flesh sicken her, feeling the taste of bile coming up her throat. The wounded girl's words came out in gurgles due to her neck being sliced open, but you could still distinguished her pleads.

"He..lp...me..." she cried, her finger twitched as if she was trying to reach her, "Ple...ase...help...me."

And then she would wake up. All the blood and cries, the heat and smell, everything just disappear and she would be back in her room, safe and sound and still alive. But it would only be for a while, until she shuts her eyes again, until she remembers the pain and the suffering. Guilt was consuming her life, destroying her sanity and slowing killing her from the inside out. She wanted this to end.

"Heather!" called her mother, snapping the girl out of her guilt trip, "Sweetie! We're leaving for dinner in a few minutes! Please hurry up!"

"Coming!" she yelled back.

That's right, the girl would was suffering such mind wrecking guilt was Heather Wong, the Queen Bee and bitch of Total Drama. Surprising, I know, but it's the truth. Ever since the incident, she had been distant from everyone: her 'friends' at school, her family and everyone else. Even her position as the Queen Bee at school was taken away, yet Heather hardly rose a finger to stop or prevent it. Maybe this was just karma's way of getting her back for all the wrong doing that she had done. Even so, what she had witness, it should have never happen.

In front of her was a full length mirror, something that was bought in the past in order to stroke her vanity, but now she wished she could just same it into a million pieces. Her raven colored hair had return to its original length, just slightly taller and still possessing her supermodel-like figure. Heather wore a Chanel LBD that hugged her curves as well as some black high heels; her family was to attend a meeting with one of Mr. Wong's clients at one of Toronto's high class restaurants.

"Yo, Heathie," sneered her younger brother from the doorway, "Quit staring at you pig face and let's go!"

The girl didn't even bother to make a comeback.

She watched her kid brother run down the hall where her parents were waiting for her. Making sure she was presentable, she stepped one foot out the door only to quickly turn back into her room and opened one of the vanity's drawers. Inside was a tiny black jewelry box laid right in the center of the compartment, lifting the lid revealed a cluster of gorgeous necklaces, rings and earrings, all decorated with different gemstone. All except one, it was a bracelet made of both black and white pearls, with tiny silver charms in the shape of skulls.

Quietly, Heather slipped on the bracelet, ignoring its gothic appearance greatly contrasting against the outfit. Mrs. Wong yelled for her daughter once more before Heather ran out of her room and outside where her family had already started up the car. The Asian girl's fingers tugged gentle on the bracelet, the familiar face of a teal haired goth entered her mind and soon she was back on her guilt trip.

"I'm so sorry, Gwen."

**o0o**

**And scene! Finally I got around to updating this fic! I also update my other fics but I'm gonna focus on this fic for the time being. Once again, thank you to all my fans for being up with my procrastination and I hope you guys like my artwork on deviantart as well.**

**Anyway, I finally revealed three more friends of Gwen: Raven, Kanani, and Sev (you already met Circe last chapter) and Lauren, the Vice of Pride and Vanity.**

**New profiles and images will be posted on dA sometime this month or next month.**

**NEXT: Chapter 5 - Kissing Corpses**

**Read & Review!**


End file.
